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THE    ARCH -SATIRIST 


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"The  least  we  can  do  is  to  apologize, 

and  we  do  it — thus."  — Page,  299 


THE 

ARCH-SATIRIST 

BY 
FRANCES  DE  WOLFE  FENWICK 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 

CHARLES   COPELAND 


"Justice  had  been  done,  and  Time,  the  Arch-Satirist, 
had  had  his  joke  out." — Thomas  Haedy. 


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VioWM  I .  Sf* 


BOSTON 
LOTHROP,    LEE    &    SHEPARD    CO. 


Published,  March,  19  lo 


Copyright,  1910,  by  Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co. 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Entered  at  Stationer's  Hall,  London 
THE  ARCH-SATIRIST 


Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


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CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

I.  "Half  Devil  and  Half  Child' 

II.  A  Visit  to  Agatha 

III.  "  Forsaken  Guts  and  Creeks  " 

IV.  A    Brilliant   Match 
V.  "Blind  Fools  of  Fate" 

VI.  "  Life  at  Its  End  "  . 

VII.  A  Short  Repentance 

VIII.  "  Punchinello  " 

IX.  "  Just  a  Few  of  the  Girls  " 

X.  "  A  Fin  -de -  siecle  Pair " 

XL  Visitors  and  Disclosures 

XII.  The  Views  of  Two  Women 

XIII.  Rejected  Addresses  . 

XIV.  A  Decision  to  Be  Reached 
XV.  "  Be  Pitiful,  O  God  !  "     . 

XVI.  The  Hockey  Match 

XVII.  A  Scandal  Verified 

XVIII.  Mrs.  Hadwell's  Fancy  Dress  Ball 

XIX.  Agatha  "  Does  Her  Duty  "  and  Is  Rewarded 

XX.  The  Twins  under  a  New  Aspect  . 

XXI.  A  Lie  Which  Is  Part  a  Truth    . 

XXII.  Whispering   Tongues 

XXIII.  When  Love  Is  Done 

XXIV.  Mrs.  Langham-Green  Pays  Her  Debt 

Mrs.  Waite,  Hers. 

XXV.  The  Shadows  Fall 


I 

i8 
43 
54 
63 
78 

93 
109 
122 
141 
164 

174 
192 
209 
232 
240 

255 
266 
276 
285 
302 
313 
32s 

332 
343 


THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 


CHAPTER    I 

"HALF  DEVIL  AND   HALF  CHILD" 

"  Then  the  preacher  preached  of   Sin  .  .  .  fair  of  flower 
and  bitter  of  fruit."  —  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 

"  A  I  A  O  me  the  idea  of  slaving  for  a  life- 
I  time  in  order  to  die  rich  is  a  piti- 
"*■  ful  sort  of  insanity.  That's  the 
Italian  in  me,  I  suppose.  I  would  think  it 
wiser  to  drink  —  drink  deep  and  long  and 
gloriously  —  and  die  of  it  —  die  in  a  ditch 
if  necessary!  Then  I  would  have  lived 
some  sort  of  life,  anyway,  and  enjoyed  it 
after  my  fashion.  But  I'm  not  going  to 
live  or  die  that  way.  Tm  going  to  take 
everything  in  life  that's  worth  having,  and 
I'm  going  to  enjoy  —  and  enjoy  —  and  en- 
joy! The  devil,  himself,  can't  cheat  me  of 
it.  I've  long  arrears  of  happiness  to  make 
up  and  by  God  III  make  them!" 


2  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

The  speaker  broke  off,  coughing  horribly; 
a  gleam  of  intense  rage  shone  in  his  great, 
wild  eyes  and  his  thin  nostrils  quivered, 
furiously.  Poor  slight  earth-worm!  caught 
in  the  whirlwind  of  Destiny  and  tossed 
hither  and  thither!  compelled  to  falsify  his 
weak  boasts  even  as  he  uttered  them!  The 
man  who  sat  opposite,  smoking  and  loung- 
ing in  the  dim  light  of  the  studio,  withdrew 
his  gaze  with  an  effort  from  his  visitor's 
frail  form  and  frenzied  face;  there  seemed 
something  indecent  in  gazing  thus  openly 
at  the  contortions  of  a  naked  soul. 

"  Have  a  little  hot  Scotch  for  the  cough," 
he  suggested,  reluctantly.  "  What's  the 
use?  I  may  just  as  well  give  it  to  him, 
here,"  he  added  to  himself.  "  The  boy's 
trebly  doomed  and  a  drop  more  or  less  isn't 
going  to  make  any  difference  either  way." 
He  busied  himself  with  a  spirit  lamp  and 
glasses  and  soon  his  visitor  was  gulping 
down  the  proffered  draught,  greedily. 

"That's  good!"  he  exclaimed.  "That 
puts  life  in  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  write 
something  now  —  something  worth  while." 

"  Something  unfit  for  reading,  I  suppose 
you  mean,"  returned  his  host,  cheerfully. 


"HALF    DEVIL"  3 

The  boy  laughed  easily  and  settled  back 
among  the  cushions  of  his  easy  chair  with 
panther-like  grace. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  answered,  gaily. 
"  I  only  write  them  after  gin.  The  best 
thing  I  ever  did  was  gin  —  *  Sin's  Lure.' 
You  read  it?" 

"  I  did." 

"Strong,  wasn't  it?" 

"  Strong,  yes.  So  is  a  —  so  are  various 
other  things  strong.  Just  the  sort  of  thing 
a  diseased,  vice-racked,  dissipated  young  — 
genius  —  like  you  might  be  expected  to 
produce.  What  bothers  me  now  is  your 
prose.   Anything  more  uncharacteristic  "  — 

The  boy  laughed  and  gazed  at  the  older 
man,  intently  and  mischievously. 

"Nothing  morbid  about  that,  is  there?" 

"  Nothing.  Bright,  dainty,  unerringly 
truthful,  delightfully  witty  —  how  in  thun- 
der do  you  do  it?  You  must  have  two 
souls." 

"  Two !    I've  got  a  dozen." 

The  boy  lit  a  cigarette  and  puffed  it, 
meditatively.  The  man  smoked  a  well-col- 
oured pipe  and  gazed  steadily  at  his  visitor. 
Seen  thus,  they  were  an  ill-assorted  pair. 


4  THE   ARCH-  SATIRIST 

Gerald  Amherst,  the  owner  of  the  studio, 
was  an  artist,  uncursed  overmuch  by  the 
artistic  temperament.  His  strong",  sane 
face  and  massive  figure  suggested  the  ath- 
lete, the  pose  and  substance  of  his  attitude 
the  successful  business  man.  Nor  did  the 
omens  lie.  He  was  an  athlete  in  his  lei- 
sure moments,  a  business  man  at  all  times. 
Art  was  his  occupation,  his  delight;  but 
he  never  forgot  that  she  was  also  his  bread- 
winner. Amherst  painted  good,  sometimes 
exceptional  pictures ;  and  he  demanded  — 
and  obtained  —  good,  sometimes  excep- 
tional prices  for  them.  For  the  rest  he 
was  thirty-four,  fine-looking,  well-bred, 
honest  —  and  popular.  Friends  came  to 
him  as  flies  come  in  July  to  ordinary 
mortals. 

So  alien  was  his  visitor  that  he  hardly 
seemed  to  belong  to  the  same  world.  Lithe, 
long-limbed,  sinuous,  with  features  of  al- 
most feminine  delicacy  and  charm  and 
hands  that  made  the  artist  soul  in  Gerald 
vibrate  pleasurably.  The  eyes  —  deep-set, 
hollow,  passionate  —  were  the  eyes  of  a 
lost  soul;  impenetrable,  fathomless,  and 
lurid. 


"HALF    DEVIL"  5 

Strange,  alluring,  repellent  personality! 
where  the  seeds  of  a  thousand  sins  —  sown 
centuries  before  —  bore  hideous  fruit.  Mad- 
ness, vice,  disease,  and  death  —  and,  through 
them  all,  the  golden  fire  of  genius!  This 
boy's  age  was  nineteen;  and  no  second 
glance  was  needed  to  tell  that  the  fierce, 
straining  spirit  must  soon  leave  its  wretched 
tenement  behind  and  fare  forth  into  dark- 
ness. In  the  meantime  —  Amherst  puffed 
at  his  pipe  and  thought.  A  year  ago  this 
boy  had  been  a  pet  and  idol  of  Montreal 
society;  to-day  his  open  corruptness  had 
closed  all  doors  to  him  save  those  of  a  few, 
who,  like  Amherst,  forgave  the  madman  in 
the  genius,  and  the  beast  in  the  dying 
boy. 

Then,  too,  our  hero  was  an  artist;  and 
Leo  Ricossia  was  a  model  such  as  artist 
seldom  sees.  He  was  graceful  as  some 
young  wild  animal;  his  delicately  nervous 
body  could  form  no  pose  that  was  not  pleas- 
ing. As  for  his  face  —  thin-lipped,  wide- 
eyed,  luminous  —  "  Ricossia  will  never  write 
a  poem  so  wonderful  as  his  face,"  a  brother- 
artist  had  once  remarked;  and  Amherst 
fully  concurred  in  the  opinion. 


6  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Ricossia  spoke  presently,  his  dark  eyes 
heavy  with  thought. 

"  You  think  it  possible  that  one  may  have 
ten  souls?  " 

"  I  think  it  probable  that  one  soul  may 
have  twenty  outlooks,  and  all  of  them  vile, 
when  he  has  soaked  in  sufficient  gin.  But 
how  an  unhealthy  mind  can  produce  healthy 
stuff  —  that's  beyond  me.  Your  prose  is 
healthy,  and  what's  more,  it's  fine.  It  ranks 
with  "  —  He  stopped  abruptly,  amazed  and 
confounded  by  the  glitter  in  Ricossia's 
eye. 

"  You  —  you  don't  think  it  better  than 
my  poetry?    You  can't!" 

"I  think  —  in  a  sense  —  it  is  better!'* 
Amherst  spoke  slowly  and  Ricossia  leaned 
forward  to  catch  his  words  with  an  avid- 
ity which  seemed  disproportioned  to  the 
matter  in  hand.  "  In  another  sense  it's 
not  so  good,  of  course.  The  poems  are 
unhealthy,  feverish,  abnormal  —  but,  in 
their  way,  they're  efforts  of  genius.  The 
stories  are  simply  very  unusually  clever 
prose  —  healthy,  witty,  and  clean.  Person- 
ally I  prefer  them." 

"You  —  you  miserable  Philistine!" 


"HALF    DEVIL"  7 

The  boy  leaned  back  as  though  reHeved 
and  his  scarlet  lips  parted  in  a  smile  of 
startling  sweetness.  The  eyes  had  lost 
their  wild  gleam  now  and  were  simply 
wells  of  dusky  kindness  and  fellowship; 
the  eyes  of  an  intelligent,  friendly  brute 
with  something  added.  Gerald  noted  the 
change  with  unflagging  interest;  as  a 
study  the  boy  never  palled. 

"You  think  I'm  a  bad  lot,  don't  you?" 

"  I  think  you're  as  bad  as  the  worst.  But 
a  chap  like  you  isn't  to  be  judged  by  ordi- 
nary standards." 

"  Yet,"  pursued  Ricossia,  slowly,  "  you 
allow  that  I  can  write  clean  stuff.  Per- 
haps in  spite  of  it  all,  underneath  it  all  — 
my  soul  is  clean." 

"I  hope  so;  but  I  don't  believe  it  for  a 
moment.  No,  I  can't  account  for  it  that 
way." 

"  Possibly,"  suggested  the  other,  puffing 
fitfully,  "  possibly,  then,  my  unclean  spirit 
has  gained  control  of  some  healthy,  human 
soul  which  it  dominates." 

"  Possibly  you're  talking  awful  rot,"  re- 
turned the  other,  good-humouredly  but  a 
trifle  impatiently. 


8  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Possibly  I  am." 

The  poet  smiled  softly  and  leaned  back, 
making  a  lovely  thing  of  the  corner  where 
he  lounged. 

"  Healthy  people  often  have  a  liking  for 
me,"  he  observed.  "  You,  for  instance  — 
the  healthiest  man  I  know.  And  the  health- 
iest woman  —  Miss  Thayer." 

"  That'll  do." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  you  mustn't  speak  of  her." 

"Why?" 

"  You  ought  to  know." 

The  boy  stared,  uncomprehendingly; 
then  threw  himself  back,  chuckling  inau- 
dibly. 

"  You  didn't  understand  me,"  he  said  at 
last,  his  beautiful  eyes  bright  with  amuse- 
ment. "  She  has  far  too  much  sense  to  be 
attracted  by  me  in  the  ordinary  way.  I 
meant  only  "  — 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  meant.  I  don't 
like  to  talk  to  you  about  her  and  I  won't. 
If  she  did  bestow  a  good  deal  of  attention 
on  you  at  one  time  it  was  before  she  knew 
your  real  character;  she  regarded  you  just 
as  a  sick,  inspired  boy.    None  of  them  ever 


"HALF    DEVIL"  9 

speak  of  you,  now;  you  ought  to  know 
that." 

Ricossia  fixed  his  great  eyes  on  the 
speaker's  face  with  an  impenetrable  expres- 
sion, then  shook  with  silent  laughter. 

"  We'll  talk  on  some  less  delicate  sub- 
ject," he  said  at  last  with  a  keen,  bright 
glance  at  the  other  man,  replete  with  subtle 
mockery.  "  Still,"  he  added,  softly,  "  you'll 
allow  —  leaving  all  personalities  out  of  the 
question  —  that  I  have  a  magnetic  attrac- 
tion for  all  women,  good  and  bad  —  even 
if  I  am  ostracized  from  polite  society." 

"I'll  allow  nothing  —  I  don't  want  to 
discuss  it,  I  tell  you,"  said  Amherst,  irri- 
tably. "  There  are  some  things  and  some 
people  one  doesn't  care  to  hear  you  men- 
tion, you  young —  Can't  you  understand 
that?" 

"  Perfectly !  "  returned  the  boy,  laughing. 
His  laugh  was  an  uncanny  thing,  so  melo- 
dious and  bell-like  as  to  be  startlingly  un- 
masculine.  Amherst  liked  it  no  better  than 
the  rest  of  him  —  and  found  it  equally  at- 
tractive. 

After  all,  he  mused,  his  momentary  irri- 
tation, subsiding,  our  ideas  of  what  a  man 


lo  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

should  be  were  arbitrary.  Certainly  there 
was  a  beauty  of  disease;  a  beauty  even  of 
corruption,  which,  while  no  one  cared  to 
imitate,  no  one,  on  the  other  hand,  could 
deny  the  existence  of.  Here  was  a  living 
example;  the  scapegoat  of  heredity,  laden 
down  with  sin,  weighted  with  disease,  yet 
possessed  of  how  many  goodly  gifts!  And 
all  to  end  in  —  what?  The  passion  of  the 
hot  heart,  the  sweat  of  the  over-active 
brain  —  all,  all  for  nothing.  An  evil  life 
and  an  early  grave.  Retribution,  yes;  but 
retribution,  really,  for  the  sins  of  the  dead 
men  whose  deeds  lived,  poisoning  the  life 
and  rotting  the  blood  in  the  veins  of  this, 
their  human  puppet.  And  these  dead  men, 
what  of  them?  What  of  their  life,  end- 
lessly self-renewed,  unceasingly  sinned 
against  until  this,  the  last  representative 
of  a  name  that  had  once  been  great,  went 
to  fertilize  the  waiting  earth.  "  About  all 
he  is  fit  for,  too,"  mused  Gerald  grimly 
enough,  noting  the  signs  plainly  written 
on  the  face  of  the  boy.  Then  his  mood 
changed.  How  pitiful!  This  beautiful 
creature,  in  nature  a  cross  between  a  satyr 
and  an  elfin,  in  face,  nothing  short  of  a 


"HALF   DEVIL"  ii 

god;  this  "vessel  of  a  more  ungainly 
make  "  *'  leaning  all  awry  " ;  this  marion- 
ette of  the  scornful  gods,  dancing  gaily 
enough,  to  every  tune  the  devil  chose  to 
play  him;  this  strange,  only  half  human 
being  of  the  unbridled  will,  the  untempered 
desires.    And  only  nineteen! 

The  studio  showed  bright  with  candle- 
light and  lamp-light.  A  fire  of  wood  and 
coal  glowed  and  chattered  on  the  hearth. 
It  was  all  very  quiet,  very  restful.  The 
boy  still  lingered  among  the  rich-hued 
cushions  and  his  face  showed  an  unwonted 
sense  of  peace. 

The  poetic  instincts  which  an  Italian 
father,  an  Irish  grandmother,  had  be- 
queathed to  him  responded  amazingly  to 
this  atmosphere  of  cosy,  sinless  warmth. 
He  was  quite  capable  of  rising  to  heights 
of  extraordinary  mental  spirituality  at  such 
moments,  though  quite  incapable  of  apply- 
ing the  first  principle  of  morality  to  his 
daily  life. 

Gerald  Amherst  thought,  as  he  had 
thought  many  times  before,  of  the  strange 
inequalities  of  life.  Here  was  he,  thirty- 
four,  the  possessor  of  a  sound  body,  a  clear 


13  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

conscience,  a  healthy  mind  and  a  sufficient 
income.  He  reflected  on  these  various  ad- 
vantages with  no  sense  of  personal  merit, 
feeling  that  they  had  been  bequeathed  to 
him  as  truly  as  had  the  old  mahogany  chest 
which  formed  one  of  the  chief  ornaments 
of  his  room.  He  had  certainly  started  as 
well  equipped  as  most  to  play  the  great 
game  of  life. 

What  if  he,  too,  had  had  this  boy's  herit- 
age? He  tried,  smiling  a  little,  to  imagine 
himself  a  Ricossia;  a  doomed,  reckless, 
light-hearted  being  who  chose  to  spend  his 
few  remaining  years  in  hopeless  vice.  As 
he  thought,  a  sudden  pity  for  the  boy  over- 
took him  as  it  had  very  often  done  before, 
a  sudden  curiosity  as  to  what  really  tran- 
spired behind  the  black  veil  which  we  all 
hang  between  our  inmost  selves  and  the 
eyes  of  our  fellow-humans.  Did  the  boy 
ever  feel  regret  or  shame  or  loathing  for 
himself  or  reluctance  to  continue  in  his  vile 
career?  Would  he  confess  to  it  if  he  did? 
Amherst,  pressed  by  a  sudden  desire  to 
know  more  of  his  whimiscal  visitant,  ques- 
tioned him,  soberly. 

"I  say  — Leo!" 


"HALF    DEVIL"  13 

"Well,  old  man?" 

"  You've  been  going  it  a  bit,  lately, 
haven't  you?  Drinking  pretty  hard?  Drugs, 
too,  of  some  sort,  I  fancy.  You  look  pretty 
seedy." 

The  boy  started  and  glanced  hastily  in 
a  polished,  steel  mirror  which  hung  near. 
What  he  saw  evidently  re-assured  him,  for 
he  tossed  his  black  head  and  smiled,  care- 
lessly. 

"  I  think  I  look  pretty  fit,"  he  said, 
coolly.  "  I'd  hate  to  think  otherwise.  My 
word!  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do  if — some 
fellows  show  that  sort  of  thing  so.  Swollen 
faces,  purple  round  the  nose  and  all  that 
—  you  know?  " 

"  I  know." 

"  But  I'm  not  in  that  class,  yet,  thank 
the  Lord." 

"  Yes,  but  suppose  the  Lord  went  back 
on  you  and  handed  you  the  red  nose  and 
the  pimples  and  all  the  other  ornaments 
which  rightfully  belong  to  you  —  what 
then?" 

"Then?  —  oh,  then,  I'd  end  it  very 
quickly.  I  can't  bear  to  have  an  ugly  ob- 
ject in  the  room  with  me;    do  you  think 


14  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

I  could  bear  to  be  one  myself?  Chloral's 
painless." 

"  Yes,  and  cheap.  The  idea  of  suicide 
appeals  to  you,  then?" 

"  Not  especially,"  answered  the  boy,  be- 
ginning to  stir,  restlessly.  "  But  one  must 
do  something  if  the  worst  comes  to  the 
worst." 

"  I  wonder,  if  you  feel  like  that,  that  you 
continue  to  live.  Do  you  really  think  your 
life's  worth  living?" 

"  No,"  answered  Ricossia,  calmly.  "  Do 
you  think  yours  is?" 

Gerald  stopped  half-way  in  an  answer, 
struck  by  a  sudden  thought.  Was  his  life 
worth  living?  It  was  a  good  life  as  lives 
go;  but  if  he  could  exchange  it  now,  to- 
night, for  total  oblivion,  absolute  insurance 
against  future  pain,  old  age,  illness,  sorrow 
—  would  he,  or  would  he  not?  He  hesi- 
tated. 

"  I  ask  you,"  pursued  Ricossia,  quietly, 
"  because,  just  now,  as  I  leaned  back  here 
in  your  comfortable  chair  with  your  fire 
dancing  in  my  eyes  and  your  good  drink 
warming  the  very  cockles  of  my  heart,  I 
thought  of  you  and,  for  a  moment,  envied 


"HALF    DEVIL"  15 

you.  Then  I  thought  of  your  life.  Your 
tiresome  routine  of  work,  exercise,  whole- 
some food,  good  air,  sound  sleep  —  God! 
how  do  you  stand  it?     I'd  go  mad!" 

"  You  think  your  own  life  preferable  ?  " 

"  My  life  is  life  of  a  kind.  My  cough's 
a  devilish  nuisance  but  I  can  always  pur- 
chase oblivion  with  a  few  cents  —  oblivion ! 
Have  you  ever  known  what  it  is  to  want 
sleep?  No?  I  thought  not.  Wait  until 
you  have.  Then  know  what  it  is  to  want 
sleep  and  to  get  it;  to  drop  off  to  slumber, 
lulled  with  pleasant  thoughts,  dreams,  fan- 
cies, and  to  feel  no  pain,  no  bother,  nothing 
but  a  delicious  drowsiness.  Of  course  the 
waking  up  is  bad  —  but  you  don't  think  of 
that;  if  you  did,  I  suppose  you'd  take  a 
bigger  dose  once  for  all." 

"  I'm  not  paid  to  induce  you  to  commit 
suicide,  but,  feeling  as  you  do,  I  wonder 
what  on  earth  you  live  for?" 

"  So  do  I.  So  do  most  of  us.  But  of 
course  there  is  only  one  answer  to  that 
question;  namely,  that  Nature  has  im- 
planted in  the  breast  of  the  tiniest  insect 
that  lives  and  crawls  on  the  face  of  this 
globe  not  only  the  desire  to  live  but  the 


i6  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

intention  to  live.  It's  an  instinct.  We  all 
have  it.  Life  is  a  horrible  thing,  really. 
This  world  is  an  unspeakable  place.  But 
none  of  us  wants  to  leave  it  all  the  same. 
That  may  be  because  it  is  the  only  life  we 
have  or  it  may  be  because  there's  a  worse 
life  waiting.  But  I  don't  believe  that, 
someway.  Though  the  Creator  seems 
pretty  cruel  at  times  I  think  perhaps  old 
Khayyam  did  him  no  injustice.  '  He's  a 
good  fellow  and  'twill  all  be  well.'  And 
now,  Amherst,  yarning  always  makes  me 
restless  and  dry  and  the  night's  still  young. 
I'm  going  to  get  drunk." 

"  Hold  on !  "  expostulated  Amherst,  gen- 
uinely shocked  and  startled,  he  could  hardly 
tell  why,  at  this  most  unexpected  and  un- 
pleasant ending  to  their  talk.  "  Don't  do 
it,  Ricossia.  How  can  you?  What  —  what 
can  you  expect  from  the  '  Good  Fellow ' 
if  you  fly  in  his  face,  that  way?  It's  dev- 
ilish, that's  what  it  is.  Stay  and  let  me 
fix  you  up  for  the  night,  you  young  fool, 
you!" 

Ricossia  laughed.  "  You're  a  funny  old 
boy,  Amherst,"  he  observed,  meditatively. 
"  I   wonder  what   it  feels   like   to   have  a 


"HALF    DEVIL"  i^ 

conscience.  I'd  rather  have  a  drink  —  a 
series  of  drinks !  *  My  Clay  with  long  ob- 
livion has  gone  dry.'  As  for  the  *  Good 
Fellow  '  —  I  haven't  seen  anything  of  him, 
yet.  Have  you?  But  the  other  old  Boy 
is  howling  to  be  fed,  so  I'm  off.  Good- 
night." 


CHAPTER   II 

A  VISIT  TO   AGATHA 

"This  life  of  ours  is  a  wild  iEolian  harp  of  many  a  joyous 

strain  — 
But  under  them  all  there  runs  a  loud,  perpetual  wail  as  of 

souls  in  pain."  — Longfellow. 

AGATHA  LADILAW  had  made  a 
pink  dress  and  was  embroidering  it 
with  roses.  Each  of  us  has  some 
particular  talent;  Agatha's  was  dressma- 
king. Her  parents  were  not  wealthy  and 
therefore  she  could  not  indulge  in  the 
"  creations "  afifected  by  many  of  her 
friends;  but  by  dint  of  constant  industry, 
excellent  taste  and  unusual  skill,  she  con- 
trived to  be  always  charmingly  costumed. 
True,  with  a  figure  that  might  have  stepped 
out  of  a  Fifth  Avenue  shop  window  and 
a  face  which  any  colour  rendered  lovely,  she 
did  not  confront  the  difficulties  of  ordinary 
mortals. 

As   physical    perfection   is    rare   and   as 

i8 


A   VISIT   TO   AGATHA  19 

Agatha  Ladilaw  was,  in  her  way,  an  un- 
usually fine  specimen  of  purely  mundane 
and  limited  loveliness,  a  pen  picture  of  her 
as  she  sat  may  be  of  interest. 

Nature  in  planning  Agatha  had  done 
unusually  well.  She  had  not  only  bestowed 
upon  her  a  great  amount  of  comeliness,  but 
she  had,  apparently,  taken  pride  in  finishing 
her  work  in  a  way  that  is  not  common. 
How  often  a  pretty  face  is  spoilt  by  an 
irregular  nose,  a  large  ear,  an  imperfect 
contour  of  cheek  or  brow!  In  Agatha's 
case,  however,  no  pains  had  been  spared 
to  produce  a  thoroughly  bewitching  whole. 
While  face  and  form  were  sufficiently  class- 
ical in  outline  to  satisfy  the  most  exacting, 
there  was  a  warmth,  a  colour,  a  radiance 
about  her,  born  partly  of  exuberant  youth, 
partly  of  brilliant  health.  Her  eyes  were 
wonderful;  purple  pansies,  black-lashed, 
white-lidded;  her  hair  was  a  ripe  chestnut, 
deepening  to  auburn,  lightening  to  gold. 
Her  skin  had  that  pure  satin  whiteness 
peculiar  to  extreme  youth;  her  hands  were 
plump,  dimpled,  tapering,  with  pink  palms 
and  transparent  nails.  Her  teeth  were 
white,  tiny  and  sharp;    when  she  smiled, 


20  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

her  pink  cheeks  broke  into  enchanting  dim- 
ples which  added  the  last  touch  of  entice- 
ment to  her  kitten-like  charms. 

Nature  had  planned  her  upon  classic 
lines  —  a  sort  of  pocket  edition  Venus. 
Agatha,  however,  after  a  careful  perusal  of 
the  fashion  plates  every  spring,  moulded 
her  figure  in  accordance  with  the  latest 
"  craze."  When  long  waists  and  narrow 
hips  held  sway,  Agatha  presented  a  fault- 
lessly correct  outline;  when  the  coquettish 
athlete  adorned  magazine  covers,  Agatha 
might  have  passed  for  her  sister.  How  all 
this  was  accomplished  with  no  injury  to 
health  is  a  mystery  which  only  the  cor- 
setiere  can  solve;  Agatha  at  all  times 
might  have  sat  for  a  picture  of  Hebe. 

For  the  rest,  she  was  slightly  under  me- 
dium height,  a  fact  which  she  publicly  de- 
plored, but  for  which  she  was  secretly 
grateful.  She  did  not  admire  tall  girls;  in 
fact,  she  did  not  admire  anybody  or  any- 
thing which  differed  very  greatly  from  her 
extremely  attractive  self.  She  had  an  in- 
tense and  artistic  appreciation  of  her  vari- 
ous good  points  and  looked  with  pity  on 
those  to  whom  the  fairies  had  been  less 


A  VISIT   TO   AGATHA  21 

lavish.  One  who  came  in  for  a  share  of 
this  ingenuous  pity  was  her  cousin,  Lynn 
Thayer. 

This  young  lady  had  dropped  in  at  the 
time  the  chapter  opens,  for  a  cup  of  tea, 
in  accordance  with  a  long-deferred  prom- 
ise. As  she  sank  into  an  easy-chair  and 
loosened  her  furs  she  smiled  at  Agatha 
with  a  smile  which  held  no  tinge  of  envy. 
For  Lynn,  while  cherishing  in  common 
with  many  plain  women  an  enthusiastic 
admiration  for  beauty,  enjoyed  it  in  much 
the  same  way  that  she  enjoyed  music;  in- 
tensely, even  emotionally,  but  impersonally. 
Notwithstanding,  she  attached  an  exag- 
gerated importance  to  it  and  affected  her 
small  cousin  more  than  she  otherwise 
might  have  done  because  she  possessed 
it  in  such  unstinted  measure. 

As  she  sat,  idly  watching  Agatha's  white 
fingers  moving  through  the  pink  draperies 
of  the  gown  which  she  was  embroidering, 
the  thought  of  Leo  Ricossia  occurred  to 
her  and  she  mentally  compared  them.  Both 
were  beautiful  to  an  extraordinary  degree; 
but  Agatha's  beauty  suggested  roses,  kit- 
tens, Cupids,  everything  that  was  soft  and 


22  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

appealing,  exquisite  and  empty,  while  Ri- 
cossia's  beauty  suggested  storm,  flaming 
sunset,  glorious  music.  His  was,  in  short, 
the  beauty  of  a  young  caged  tiger,  Aga- 
tha's the  loveliness  of  a  very  perfect  white 
Persian  kitten.  Lynn  laughed  as  this  sim- 
ile presented  itself  to  her  mind;  it  seemed 
to  her  singularly  apropos.  What  different 
worlds  they  inhabited,  these  two  radiant 
young  creatures!  Ricossia  represented  the 
pagan  element,  Agatha  was  the  last  word 
of  civilized  young-ladyship.  The  world 
was  wide  enough  to  contain  both;  nay, 
this  little,  stately  old  city  was  wide  enough 
for  that.  They  lived  within  an  hour's  dis- 
tance of  one  another,  as  far  asunder  in 
thought,  life,  knowledge,  ideals  as  is  this 
little  earth  from  "  the  last  star's  uttermost 
distance." 

Lynn  Thayer's  and  Agatha  Ladilaw's 
mothers  had  been  sisters  and  both  had  been 
beauties.  Lynn,  however,  as  her  maternal 
relatives  were  fond  of  remarking,  had 
"  taken  after  her  father."  Though  her  face 
was  pleasing  it  was  rather  plain;  plain,  not 
ugly;  for  its  plainness  consisted  rather  In 
lack  of  positive  beauty  than  in  any  partic- 


A   VISIT   TO   AGATHA  23 

ular  defect.  Her  hair  was  brown  and 
abundant,  her  eyes  deep-set  and  giving  the 
effect  of  brown  to  the  casual  observer,  al- 
though, as  a  matter  of  fact,  they  were  a 
dark  greyish  green.  Her  skin  was  colour- 
less, her  mouth,  large  and  thin-lipped,  her 
nose,  ordinary.  However,  her  figure  was 
excellent  of  its  kind,  tall,  straight,  flat- 
backed,  and,  while  delicately  proportioned, 
giving  the  effect  of  considerable  reserve 
strength.  Her  movements,  too,  were 
graceful,  but  graceful  somewhat  as  a 
young  boy's  are  graceful,  alert,  easy,  noise- 
less and  entirely  lacking  in  effort  or  self- 
consciousness.  Perhaps  her  only  positive 
beauty  consisted  in  her  teeth  which,  though 
not  dainty  like  Agatha's,  were  white  and 
regular.  It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  say 
that  her  face  lacked  expression,  but  it  was 
not  a  mobile  face;  habits  of  self-control 
and  repression  had  stamped  themselves  too 
deeply  in  her  nature  not  to  show  elsewhere. 
Her  bearing  was  dignified  and  even  dis- 
tinguished and  her  voice  well-modulated 
and  soft.  As  a  whole,  she  was  the  sort  of 
girl  whom  one  might  meet  any  day  in  any 
city  of  the  continent;    a  girl  who  was  no 


24  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

longer  young,  yet  showed  no  signs  of  age; 
a  girl  who  could  never  be  pretty,  yet  would 
hardly  be  considered  ugly;  a  girl  who  wore 
dark  coloured  tailor-made  costumes  and 
looked  like  a  lady  in  them;  a  girl  who 
closely  resembled  scores  of  other  girls  the 
world  over. 

Lynn  Thayer  occupied  a  somewhat  un- 
usual position  in  Montreal.  Her  mother 
had  been  a  pretty  woman  of  fashion,  her 
father  a  well-to-do  man.  However,  her 
father  dying  shortly  after  his  marriage  and 
her  mother  losing  all  her  money  in  a  way 
which  shall  be  explained  elsewhere,  Lynn 
had  been  left  penniless.  Her  father's  only 
living  brother  had  offered  her  a  home  and 
a  dress  allowance;  but  she  had  refused 
the  latter,  had  qualified  as  a  public  school 
teacher,  and  was  earning  a  regular  salary 
in  one  of  the  Board  Schools.  As  both  her 
father's  and  her  mother's  relatives  were 
people  of  some  wealth  and  much  social 
standing,  she  occupied  an  anomalous  posi- 
tion in  what  is  known  as  "  society."  As  a 
young  girl  she  had  "  gone  out "  quite  a 
little;  now  for  reasons  which  shall  pres- 
ently develop,  she  went  only  to  the  homes 


A    VISIT    TO    AGATHA  25 

of  intimate  friends   and  was   seldom   seen 
in  public. 

Oddly  enough  Lynn  Thayer  possessed  a 
considerable  fascination  for  both  sexes. 
All  men  and  most  women  liked  her.  She 
had  never  been  pretty  and  was  no  longer 
a  young  girl,  but  her  attraction  had  rather 
augmented  than  diminished  as  time  went 
by.  Debutantes,  secure  in  the  possession 
of  unimpeachable  gowns  and  rosy  cheeks, 
often  looked  with  amazement  at  the  alac- 
rity with  which  their  partners  left  them 
for  a  dance  with  Miss  Thayer.  Probably 
these  same  partners  would  have  found  it 
difficult  to  explain  why,  themselves.  Lynn 
always  created  the  impression  that  she  was- 
a  nice  girl;  a  positive  "nice  girl,"  not  a 
negative  "  nice  girl."  People  liked  her. 
Children  "  took  to  her  "  at  once,  dogs  fol- 
lowed her;  cats  jumped  on  her  knee  with- 
out waiting  for  an  invitation.  Beyond  an 
admirable  figure  and  a  pretty  wit  she  pos- 
sessed no  surface  charms;  but  something 
about  her  attracted  and  inspired  confidence 
and  trust.  It  is  difficult  to  say  why  one 
excellent  person  is  universally  liked,  an- 
other excellent  person  universally  detested, 


26  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

another  excellent  person  universally  re- 
spected and  shunned.  Lynn  Thayer  be- 
longed to  the  first  class,  that  was  all. 

Certainly  no  two  girls  could  resemble 
one  another  less  than  the  cousins.  Lynn 
was  at  best  "  a  nice-looking  girl,"  Agatha 
was  "  a  dream."  She  showed  to  excellent 
advantage,  too,  in  her  mother's  house 
where  everything  had  been  planned  with 
an  eye  to  the  petted  daughter  as  the  cen- 
tral figure. 

It  was  a  very  pretty  sitting-room  where 
Agatha  Ladilaw  sat,  this  cold  January  day. 
Without,  the  sharp  air  cut  like  a  knife; 
within,  all  was  comfort,  warmth,  cosiness. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  Agatha  in 
anything  but  elegant  and  graceful  sur- 
roundings. She  was  like  a  lovely,  white, 
Persian  kitten  who  had  fed  on  cream  and 
lain  on  cushions  all  her  life;  and,  someway, 
one  always  knew  that  she  would  continue 
to  feed  on  cream  and  lie  on  silk  even  if  she 
lost  her  fur  and  her  teeth  in  the  course  of 
time.  If  certain  natures  carry  within  them- 
selves the  elements  of  tragedy,  others  carry 
within  themselves  not  only  the  desire  for 
the  soft  things  of  life  but  the  capacity  for 


A   VISIT   TO    AGATHA  27 

obtaining  them.  To  the  latter  class  Aga- 
tha undoubtedly  belonged.  Her  beautiful 
aunt,  Lynn's  mother,  had  made  rather  a 
mess  of  her  life,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
she  had  had  all  and  more  than  Agatha  pos- 
sessed in  the  way  of  beauty  and  fascina- 
tion. One  knew  instinctively  that  Agatha 
would  never  fall  into  her  mistakes.  In  the 
first  place  she  would  not  wait  till  twenty- 
five  before  marrying;  in  the  second  place 
she  would  never  dislike  any  man  who  fed 
and  clothed  her  sumptuously;  in  the  third 
place  she  would  never  be  carried  away  by 
any  indiscreet  and  expensive  infatuation. 
In  short  Agatha  was  quite  the  most  correct 
thing  in  young  ladies,  eminently  satisfac- 
tory and  desirable. 

The  room  where  Agatha  liked  to  sit  with 
embroidery  or  sewing  was  long,  low,  light. 
The  bay-window  was  filled  with  plants,  and 
the  fragrance  of  mignonette  and  jasmine 
hung  about  the  rose-coloured  curtains 
which  draped  the  alcove  and  separated  it 
from  the  rest  of  the  room.  The  furniture 
was  light  and  artistic  rather  than  costly; 
easy  chairs  upholstered  in  rose-patterned 
chintz;     mission-wood    tables,    bookcases 


28  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

and  "  rockers  " ;  the  inevitable  "  cosy  cor- 
ner," cushioned  to  the  last  degree  of  com- 
fort; a  green  carpet  displaying  a  border 
of  various-coloured  roses;  a  silver-laden 
tea-table,  a  table  containing  books  and 
magazines  —  mostly  uncut;  another  con- 
taining one  beautiful  vase  of  cut  flowers. 
Presently,  when  dusk  arrived,  the  room 
would  be  suffused  with  rose-coloured  lamp- 
light, but,  at  present,  the  winter  sun  flood- 
ing the  room  and  the  tiny  fire  which 
burned  on  the  hearth  gave  a  sufficient  sug- 
gestion of  cheer. 

Agatha  in  her  pink  environment  sewing 
on  a  pink  dress  gave  one  a  delightful  sense 
of  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.  One  for- 
got, for  the  time  being,  the  bitter  January 
wind  howling  outside,  the  flock  of  black 
cares  that  dog  the  footsteps  of  ordinary 
mortals.  Agatha  certainly  had  her  place 
in  the  scheme  of  the  universe,  just  as  the 
Persian  kitten  has.  If  the  kitten  were 
thrust  out  into  the  world  and  told  to 
earn  its  cream  —  that  would  be  another 
story. 

Agatha,  as  has  before  been  stated,  would 
never  have  to  earn  her  cream,  otherwise 


A   VISIT   TO   AGATHA  29 

than  by  existing  and  ornamenting.  She 
would  always  be  cheerfully  ready  to  pay 
for  it  whenever  necessary  in  the  coin  with 
which  Nature  had  so  richly  endowed  her. 
Therefore  it  will  at  once  be  seen  that  Aga- 
tha was  a  most  satisfactory  girl;  every- 
thing that  a  young  lady  ought  to  be;  just 
the  sort  of  person  who  could  be  depended 
upon  to  give  Society  no  shocks  and  her 
parents  no  anxiety. 

Lynn  almost  wished  that  Agatha  would 
not  think  it  necessary  to  talk;  the  fire-lit, 
rose-decorated  room  and  the  beautiful  little 
occupant  who  sat,  absorbed  in  her  draper- 
ies, were  both  so  eminently  satisfactory 
from  an  artistic  point  of  view  that  she 
would  have  preferred  to  lounge  idly,  and 
enjoy  them.  Everything  about  Agatha 
was  so  attractive,  so  feminine,  in  such 
charming  taste.  The  delicate  white  fingers 
moving  in  and  out  of  the  pink  draperies; 
the  graceful  pose  of  the  pretty  figure  in 
the  easy  chair;  the  absorbed,  almost  spir- 
itual expression  of  the  great,  violet  eyes; 
all  charmed  Lynn,  even  while  she  realized 
their  misleadingness  and  realized,  too,  that, 
by  breaking  into   these   absorbed   medita- 


30  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

tions,  one  was  liable  to  disturb  nothing 
more  important  than  the  set  of  an  imagi- 
nary train.  Soon,  however,  Agatha  spoke; 
slowly  and  with  something  resembling  an 
effort. 

"  Lynn,  what  do  you  think  of  Harry 
Shaftan,  the  General's  nephew?" 

"  He's  a  nice  boy." 

"  Nicer  than  Howard  Pyle  or  Jimmy 
Gresham?  " 

"  I  believe  I  like  him  better." 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  others?" 

"Why?  Are  you  engaged  to  any  of 
them?"  asked  Lynn,  laughing. 

"Oh,  no!  That  is  —  I  mean  to  say  — 
yes.    I  mean,  I'm  engaged  to  them  all." 

Lynn  leaned  back  and  gasped.  Agatha 
continued  to  embroider. 

"  And  —  may  I  ask  which  one  you  intend 
to  marry?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  exactly,"  confessed  Aga- 
tha, poising  her  needle  on  her  pink  lip  and 
gazing  reflectively  heavenward.  "  They're 
all  nice;  but  I  don't  think  I'll  marry  any 
of  them." 

"Agatha  Ladilaw!  What  do  you 
mean?" 


A   VISIT   TO    AGATHA  31 

"Why,  lots  of  engagements  are  broken," 
said  Agatha,  looking  surprised.  "  Lots  and 
lots  of  them.  If  I  found  that  I  didn't 
really  love  any  of  these  men  —  that  the 
real  passion  of  my  life  was  yet  to  come  — 
you  wouldn't  advise  me  to  marry  them, 
would  you?"  She  looked  at  her  cousin 
with  an  air  of  virtuous  surprise  and  Lynn 
shouted. 

"  Oh,  Agatha,  you're  a  treat !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, with  intense  enjoyment.  "  A  veri- 
table, living  treat !  " 

"  I  really  don't  see  why,"  said  Agatha, 
coldly,  proceeding  to  thread  a  needle  with 
an  offended  air.  "  And  if  you're  going  to 
laugh  about  serious  subjects  like  love  and 
marriage,  why,  I  won't  talk  about  them, 
that's  all." 

This  consummation  was  far  from  Lynn's 
desire;  and  by  dint  of  earnest  and  respect- 
ful entreaties  she  finally  induced  her  small 
cousin  to  continue. 

"  What  made  you  accept  them  all  in  the 
first  place?"  she  asked  with  interest. 

"Why,  they  all  wanted  me,"  said  Aga- 
tha, simply.  "  And  it's  so  hard  to  say  no 
to  a  nice  man.     Even  if  he  isn't  nice,  it's 


32  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

not  easy.  And  you  said  yourself  that 
they  "  — 

"But,  Agatha?" 

"Yes?" 

"  Doesn't  it  seem  queer  to  —  well,  to  let 
three  men  kiss  you  at  the  same  time?" 

"The  idea!"  said  Agatha,  haughtily. 
"  Of  course  they  don't  all  do  it  at  once. 
I  very  seldom  see  more  than  one  of  them 
in  the  same  evening." 

"Oh,  don't  be  silly,  Agatha;  you  must 
know  what  I  mean.  Doesn't  it  seem  — 
isn't  it  a  little  hard  to  "  — 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Agatha,  staring,  "  it's 
the  easiest  thing  in  the  world." 

"Dear  me!  You  don't  feel  at  all  sneaky 
or  confused  about  it?" 

"Confused?  Why,  no.  You  see,  I've 
always  been  engaged  to  two  or  three  peo- 
ple more  or  less  ever  since  I  was  fifteen; 
of  course  before  that  it  wasn't  really  neces- 
sary." 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"Why,  to  be  engaged,  you  know!  one 
didn't  have  to  be.  But  after  you're  fifteen, 
it  seems  rather  fast,  somehow,  to  let  people 
kiss  you  that  you're  not  engaged  to." 


A   VISIT   TO   AGATHA  33 

"  I  had  no  idea  you  were  so  particular," 
murmured  Lynn,  bending  down  to  hide  a 
smile. 

"  Oh,  I  always  think  a  girl  can't  be  too 
particular  about  those  things,"  said  Aga- 
tha, firmly.  "  Because  suppose  someone 
happened  to  see  you!  All  you  have  to  do 
then  is  to  say,  '  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I'm 

engaged  to  Mr. ,'  whichever  one  it  was. 

And  there  you  are !  " 

"  And  suppose  the  same  person  found 
you  with  one  of  the  others  —  what  then?" 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  very  unlucky.  I 
don't  believe  I  would  ever  be  so  unlucky 
as  that.  And,  Lynn,  now  that  I  have  taken 
you  into  my  confidence  and  told  you 
things,  won't  you  make  a  friend  of  me? 
and  let  me  give  you  a  little  advice?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Lynn,  smiling. 

"  It's  about  Mr.  Lighton.  You  know  he 
is  so  eligible  and  it  would  be  so  dreadful 
if,  by  any  mismanagement,  you  let  him 
slip  through  your  fingers." 

"Oh!" 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  and  men  are  so  deceitful," 
continued  Agatha,  piously,  "  you  can't  tell 
a  thing  about  them,  you  really  can't.    Now 


34  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

there  was  a  case  I  knew;  it  was  something 
Hke  yours  only  not  so  disappointing,  for  the 
man  had  only  two  thousand  a  year.  But 
he  kept  running  after  this  girl,  just  the  way 
Lighton  does  after  you,  and  everybody 
thought  he  meant  something.  People  kept 
expecting  to  hear  the  engagement  an- 
nounced; but  it  never  came  off." 

"  What  was  the  trouble?  " 

"  Why,  you  know,  it  was  the  queerest 
thing!  he  kept  calling  and  calling  and 
every  time  you'd  think  he  was  going  to 
propose;  but  he  never  did.  So  the  girl 
got  mad.  She  said  she  simply  wasn't  going 
to  stand  it  a  moment  longer,  so  she  packed 
her  trunk  and  went  off  to  stay  with  some 
people  in  Toronto.  She  was  not  going  to 
have  any  such  nonsense.  But  it  didn't  do 
any  good,  for  he  married  some  one  else." 

"What  a  sad  story!" 

"Isn't  it?"  agreed  Agatha,  oblivious  of 
sarcasm.  "  But  she  was  very  lucky,  for  she 
met  someone  who  had  quite  six  hundred 
a  year  more  than  the  first  man  had,  and 
he  proposed  to  her  quite  quickly,  and  so 
then  of  course  they  were  married,  and  I 
sent   them   a   centrepiece   that   I   had   em- 


A   VISIT   TO   AGATHA  35 

broidered,  myself.  It  was  a  very  handsome 
one  but  you  see  Toronto  is  a  nice  place  to 
stay  in." 

"  Oh,  I  quite  see  why  you  sent  it.  I  also 
see  why  you  told  me  the  story.  It  has  a 
moral.  If  the  man  who  is  rushing  you 
doesn't  propose  after  a  reasonable  space 
of  time  —  go  to  Toronto!  Isn't  that  the 
idea?" 

"  You  are  so  clever,"  said  Agatha  with 
an  apologetic  smile,  "  that  sometimes  I 
don't  quite  understand  you.  But  if  you 
mean  that  you  think  that  I  am  advising 
you  to  go  to  Toronto,  that  isn't  right,  be- 
cause any  other  place  would  do  as  well. 
Except  that,  of  course,  there  are  quite  a 
good  many  men  in  Toronto." 

"  And  you  think  that  one  of  them  might 
be  induced  to  accept  me?" 

"  Why  not  ? "  said  Agatha,  encourag- 
ingly. "  But,  of  course,  you  wouldn't  be 
at  all  likely  to  make  another  match  like 
Mr.  Lighton.  So  that  is  why  I  want  you 
to  be  so  particularly  careful.  You  don't 
take  these  things  seriously  enough,  Lynn, 
you  know  you  don't.  You  must  remember 
that  you  are  getting  on." 


36  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Every  year  brings  me  nearer  the  grave, 
but  no  nearer  matrimony,"  commented 
Lynn,  assuming  an  appropriately  funereal 
aspect. 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that ! "  cried  Agatha, 
looking  genuinely  shocked.  "  Please  don't ! 
It  sounds  so  dreadfully  as  if  it  might 
be —  And  I  am  sure  Mr.  Lighton  is 
most  attentive  and  Mr.  Amherst  and  two 
or  three  others  call  pretty  often,  don't 
they?" 

"  Yet,"  said  her  cousin,  solemnly,  "  I 
think  myself,  Agatha,  that  there  is  just  one 
little  thing  w^hich  is  going  to  effectually 
prevent  Mr.  Lighton  from  marrying  me. 
You  mark  my  words!  as  sure  as  I  stand 
here  just  so  surely  will  I  never  be  Mrs. 
Lighton.  This  one  little  obstacle  is  going 
to  stand  in  the  way." 

"  Why,  what  can  it  be?  "  queried  Agatha, 
with  intense  interest. 

"  You  have  no  idea  ?  " 

"  Why,  no." 

"  I  thought  that  you  wouldn't  have,"  re- 
turned Lynn,  very  gravely. 

"  It  won't  prevent  him  from  proposing, 
will  it?" 


A   VISIT   TO    AGATHA  37 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  It  will  only  prevent 
him  from  marrying  —  that  is,  from  marry- 
ing me." 

"Oh,  how  dreadful!"  cried  Agatha  in 
genuine  distress.  "  And  to  think  of  all  the 
men  you  have  refused,  Lynn!  and  I  sup- 
pose that  there  isn't  one  you  could  get 
back  at  a  pinch." 

"  I  fear  not.  The  majority  are  either 
dead  or  married  and  the  Grave  and  the 
Other  Woman  do  not  disburse." 

"  No,  indeed,"  sighed  her  mentor.  "  And 
it's  so  necessary  for  you  to  marry,  Lynn, 
for  if  Uncle  Horace  died  to-morrow  he 
would  leave  Aunt  Lucy  everything  and 
there  would  be  nothing  left  for  you.  Oh, 
what  a  pity  that  your  mother's  money  was 
all  spent." 

"  Yes,  it  seems  a  little  unfortunate." 

"That  dreadful  Italian!  What  a  pity 
Aunt  Clara  married  him  after  your  father 
died.  And  didn't  they  have  a  son?  What 
has  become  of  him?  " 

"  My  dear  Agatha,  how  should  I  know?  " 
said  Lynn,  restlessly.  "  Don't  you  remem- 
ber that,  when  Uncle  Horace  adopted  me, 
he  did  it  with  the  distinct  understanding 


38  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

that  I  was  to  hold  no  communication  with 
my  mother  and  my  little  half-brother?" 

"  Oh,  how  dreadful !  How  could  you 
bear  to  be  parted  from  your  own  dear 
mother  for  ever?  " 

Lynn  surveyed  the  questioner  with  a 
slight  smile. 

"  Oh,  I  enjoyed  the  feeling  that  I 
brought  in  six  hundred  a  year.  I  knew 
that  it  would  procure  my  mother  more 
pleasure  than  my  society  could,  and  that, 
with  six  hundred  a  year,  her  baby  boy,  and 
an  occasional  kiss  from  the  biggest  black- 
guard the  Lord  ever  let  loose  on  earth,  she 
would  be  as  happy  as  she  could  ever  be. 
Poor  mother!  she  was  pretty,  they  say, 
even  when  she  lay  dead;  her  beauty  didn't 
do  her  much  good,  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
my  ugliness  hasn't  profited  me,  greatly. 
On  the  whole,  I  wish  I  looked  like  her." 

"  Aunt  Clara  was  so  awfully  pretty  and 
that  Italian  she  married  was  so  wonder- 
fully handsome!  the  boy  must  have  been 
a  perfect  little  beauty." 

"  He  was."  Lynn  spoke  without  enthu- 
siasm. 

"Weren't  you  fond  of  him?" 


A   VISIT   TO    AGATHA  39 

"  Very." 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  him,  again?" 

"No  — yes"  — 

"  I  don't  believe  you  cared  much  about 
him,  really." 

Lynn  looked  at  her  and  smiled. 

"  I  was  nine  when  he  was  born.  My  own 
father  had  died  when  I  was  a  baby  and 
my  earliest  recollections  are  those  of  see- 
ing my  mother  crying  half  the  day  because 
my  stepfather  was  out  and  laughing  and 
chatting  wildly  because  he  was  in.  She 
never  noticed  me.  I  was  an  ugly  little 
thing  and  she  worshipped  beauty  —  as  I 
do.  Besides,  there  are  certain  people  who 
seem  to  suck  the  lifeblood  of  all  who  care 
for  them,  and  my  stepfather  was  of  these; 
her  love  for  him  was  a  feverish  thing,  a 
thing  that  absorbed  and  tortured  and 
finally  killed  her.  Such  is  the  perfect  jus- 
tice of  the  universe!  no  good  man  or 
woman  ever  receives  that  idolatrous  love; 
it  is  only  the  vile,  the  utterly  selfish,  the 
heartlessly  cruel  —  oh,  here!  what  am  I 
saying?  To  return  to  my  story;  I  had  a 
nurse  till  we  grew  too  poor,  then  I  looked 
after   myself.     Then  .  .  .  the   baby   came. 


40  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

The  baby!  Oh,  Agatha,  if  you  had  seen 
him!  He  was  so  beautiful,  so  utterly  dear 
and  heavenly,  and  no  one  had  ever  cared 
for  me,  and  he  —  the  very  first  time  I  saw 
him  he  put  out  his  tiny  hand  and  the  little 
fingers  twined  about  mine  .  .  .  oh,  my 
baby,  my  baby,  how  could  I  ever  love  any- 
thing in  earth  or  heaven  as  I  loved  you? 
Well!  for  three  years  I  was  always  with 
him  and  then  —  and  then  Uncle  Horace 
wanted  to  adopt  me,  to  rescue  me,  as  he 
called  it.  And  —  I  went.  I  was  twelve 
years  old  at  the  time  —  in  years  —  and  I 
realized,  in  the  bitterest  moment  of  my  life, 
that  to  go  meant  money  and  comfort  and 
pleasure  for  him  —  my  idol !  All  I  could 
do  for  him  was  to  leave  him  —  I  saw  it 
plainly  —  and  I  went  without  a  word.  I 
went.  I  wonder  if  any  misery  in  after  life 
can  ever  compare  with  the  agony  of  that 
last  hour  when  I  sat,  holding  him  in  my 
arms  and  rocking  him  to  and  fro  —  and 
waiting.  The  carriage  came  at  last  to 
take  me  to  the  station  and  I  kissed  the 
wonderful  little  face  and  looked  into  the 
marvellous  baby  eyes  and  went!  Oh,  my 
baby,  my  baby,  if  I  ever  have  a  child  of 


A  VISIT   TO   AGATHA  41 

my  own,  will  he,  can  he,  ever  be  to  me 
what  you  were,  I  wonder !  —  dear  me,  what 
a  lot  of  nonsense  I'm  talking,  Agatha! 
You  mustn't  mind." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Agatha,  politely,  "  it's 
interesting.  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were 
so  fond  of  babies,  Lynn.  But  it  seems  so 
queer  that  you  don't  know  where  he  is, 
now.  What  became  of  him  when  your 
mother  died?  He  was  about  ten,  wasn't 
he?   for  I  remember  you  were  nineteen." 

"  Yes,  he  was  ten.  Oh,  he  lived  at  school 
and  then  with  his  father  till  the  latter  died 
of  consumption.    That  was  two  years  ago." 

"And  now?" 

"Why,  now  —  he  is  probably  living 
somewhere  else.  He  is  a  man,  you  see,  and 
able  to  take  care  of  himself." 

"  But,  oh,  Lynn  dear,  you  show  so  little 
feeling,"  said  Agatha,  with  dainty  reproach. 
"  Not  to  care  what  has  become  of  that  boy 
—  when  you  used  to  be  so  fond  of  him." 

"  Oh,  we  forget  everybody  and  every- 
thing —  in  time,"  returned  Lynn,  listlessly. 
"  At  least,"  she  added  in  a  lower  voice,  "  I 
hope  we  do." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Agatha,  com- 


42  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

fortably.  "  Lynn,  did  you  ever  see  any- 
thing so  sweet  as  that  last  rosebud  I've 
just  made?  And  it's  given  me  such  a 
lovely  idea.  The  very  next  fancy  dress  ball 
I'm  asked  to,  I'll  go  as  the  Queen  of  the 
Roses.  Don't  you  think  that  will  be 
lovely?  Pale  pink,  you  know,  with  gar- 
lands of  rosebuds  and  a  rose-wreath.  Ring 
for  tea,  won't  you,  please?  I'm  dying  for 
a  cup,  and  it's  getting  too  dark  to  work." 


CHAPTER  III 

"FORSAKEN  GUTS  AND  CREEKS" 

"If  we  have  loved  but  well 
Under  the  sun, 
Let  the  last  morrow  tell 
What  we  have  done." 

—  Bliss  Carman. 

ON  an  exceptionally  disreputable 
Montreal  street  stood  a  particu- 
larly unsavoury  old  studio  building. 
Like  other  unsavoury  things  it  had  an  in- 
teresting history,  having,  in  its  palmy  days, 
belonged  to  an  English  duke.  The  duke 
was  now  dust  and  the  studio  building  un- 
popular with  the  constabulary.  Yet  an  air 
of  former  greatness  enveloped  it  and  its 
large,  spacious  halls  and  lofty  ceilings  bore 
mute  and  pathetic  testimony  to  the  gran- 
deur of  former  days. 

In  an  apartment  which  a  duchess  had 
once  inhabited  rats  and  spiders  revelled,  un- 
rebuked,  save  when,  once  a  week,  a  wild- 
eyed  slattern  clattered  noisily  in  and  at- 

43 


44  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

tacked  them  with  broom  and  scrubbing- 
brush.  Sometimes  the  heavy  old-fashioned 
door  was  locked  and  she  went  away  re- 
joicing; sometimes  it  was  merely  closed, 
in  which  case  she  entered  fearlessly  and 
performed  her  tasks  as  expeditiously  and 
abominably  as  possible.  Frequently,  dur- 
ing these  revels,  the  lithe  form  of  Mr.  Ri- 
cossia  might  have  been  discerned,  stretched 
upon  the  studio  couch  in  deep  and  peaceful 
slumber.  Even  the  prosaic  and  work-har- 
rowed drudge  of  the  Chatham  was  wont 
to  pause  occasionally  and  gaze  with  some- 
thing approaching  awe  at  the  frail  form 
and  beautiful  face  of  the  opium-drugged 
consumptive.  A  spiritual  majesty  lay  on 
his  brow  and  his  whole  being  seemed  ex- 
pressive of  an  unearthly  peace  and  a  som- 
bre loveliness.  Like  some  dark,  fallen  star 
he  lay  quiescent  in  the  dim  light  of  the 
studio;  a  thing  to  make  one's  heart  ache 
when  one  reflected  that  he,  too,  was  born 
of  a  human  mother. 

Mr.  Ricossia's  movements  were  uncer- 
tain, however;  and  one  fine  January  eve- 
ning found  him  sitting  at  the  studio  table, 
smoking  and  scribbling,  busily.     Presently 


"FORSAKEN    CREEKS"  45 

the  door  opened;  he  looked  up,  pleasantly, 
showing  no  surprise,  and  bent  over  his 
writing. 

"  Just  a  minute !  "  he  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

The  visitor  nodded,  closed  the  door 
quietly,  and  stood  as  though  waiting. 
Presently  she  raised  a  thick  veil  and  fixed 
her  eyes  intently  on  the  writer.  They  were 
sombre  eyes,  not  over  large  but  somewhat 
expressive;  and  as  she  watched  the  other 
occupant  of  the  studio,  they  dilated  and 
glowed  in  a  way  that  was  almost  fierce  and 
wholly  human.  So  might  a  fire-tortured 
martyr  have  regarded  in  death  the  symbol 
of  his  faith,  the  cross  for  which  he  died. 

Presently  the  woman  spoke. 

"  I  can  only  stay  a  few  minutes,  my  dar- 
ling," she  said  in  a  low  voice,  vibrating 
with  painful  tenderness.  "  There  is  the 
money." 

The  boy  sprang  to  his  feet  and  grasped 
it,  his  dark  eyes  aflame  with  eagerness. 
Hastily,  greedily,  he  counted  it  over,  then 
put  it  in  his  pocket  and  turned  to  the 
woman  with  a  brilliant  smile. 

"  That  is  fine,"  he  said,  his  flute-like 
voice  making  melody  in  the  studio  and  in 


46  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

his  hearer's  heart.  "  You  must  have  done 
well,  lately.  How  much  have  you  sold 
altogether?  " 

"  A  long  story  to  the  '  Alhambra,'  a  funny 
skit  to  the  '  Woman's  Hearth  '  and  an  article 
or  two  to  some  smaller  concerns.  Try  to 
make  it  last,  for  I  had  to  spend  nearly  all 
my  month's  salary  —  oh,  Liol,  Liol!" 

A  burst  of  coughing  interrupted  her  and 
turned  her  wind-flushed  face  white.  She 
stood  in  silence,  knowing  that  nothing  in- 
furiated the  dying  boy  like  sympathy,  and 
held  her  breath,  waiting  for  the  paroxysm 
to  pass.  So  long  did  it  last,  however,  that 
she  forgot  all  caution  and,  rushing  to  the 
sick  man's  side,  caught  his  hand  and 
screamed  aloud. 

"  Oh,  Liol,  Liol,  do  you  want  to  kill  me? 
Won't  you  go  to  that  retreat?  and  try  to 
live  for  my  sake?  Oh  try,  only  try!  I 
can't  bear  it!  I  thought  I  could,  but  I 
can't.  Oh,  for  God's  sake,  go!  try  it,  only 
try  it  for  a  little  while  "  — 

He  snatched  his  hand  away  and  flung 
himself  on  the  couch,  shaking  with  weak- 
ness and  fury. 

"Again?"  he  cried,  raging.     "You  ask 


"FORSAKEN    CREEKS"  47 

me  again  to  go  to  one  of  those  vile  cures? 
after  all  I've  said  and  sworn?  God  in 
Heaven!  how  often  must  I  tell  you  that, 
if  I've  only  a  few  months  to  live,  I'm  going 
to  live!  not  die  by  inches.  Fool  that  you 
are!" 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
turned  away  from  him. 

"  Go  to  those  beastly  mountains,"  he 
snarled,  venomously.  "  Go  where  all  that 
makes  life  worth  living  will  be  out  of  reach 
and  I  dogged  by  a  pack  of  vile,  prying 
doctors  and  attendants!  If  you're  tired 
of  keeping  me  I'll  take  an  extra  dose  and 
end  it  to-night! " 

"Liol!" 

"Then  don't  madden  me!  Here!  you 
said  you  couldn't  stay  long,  didn't  you? 
My  last  poems  are  on  the  table.  Send  a 
couple  more  to  *  Hosmer's  Monthly  '  —  they 
asked  for  them  —  God!  is  this  another  fit 
coming  on?  .  .  .  There!  I  feel  better.  It 
passes  sometimes  and  I  daresay  I'll  outlive 
you  all,  yet."  His  face  brightened  and 
became  luminous  with  hope  and  defiance. 
The  terrible  paroxysm  of  coughing  had 
flooded   his   dusky   cheeks   with   rose;    his 


48  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

black  hair  curled  limply  back  from  his 
damp  forehead;  his  magnificent  eyes  ex- 
panded and  fired  with  the  consumptive's 
cheating  illusion  of  future  health.  Beside 
his  glowing,  burning  beauty  Lynn  Thayer 
seemed  one  of  those  daughters  of  earth 
who,  in  former  ages,  loved  the  sons  of  God. 
She  devoured  him  with  her  eyes  in  a  silence 
so  tense  and  sorrow-laden  that  the  very  air 
seemed  to  vibrate  with  it. 

"  Ah  God,  how  I  love  you,"  she  said  at 
last,  hopelessly.  "  And  you  —  oh,  Liol, 
Liol,  you  never  even  kissed  me,  to-night." 

"What?  Never  even  kissed  you?" 
answered  the  other,  good-humouredly. 
"  Well,  but,  my  dear  old  girl,  you  must 
remember  that  the  fool  doctors  say  that 
consumption's  catching.  They're  right, 
too;  I  caught  it  from  my  father,  curse 
him!  I  wouldn't  be  where  I  am  to-day 
if  it  wasn't  for  him."  His  face  darkened, 
moodily;  then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  held  out  his  arms  with  a  smile  that 
was  more  mirthful  than  tender. 

Lynn  Thayer  walked  swiftly  to  the 
couch,  dropped  on  her  knees  beside  it  and 
buried  her  face  in  the  frail  shoulder  of  its 


"FORSAKEN    CREEKS"  49 

occupant.  She  remained  thus  for  a  few 
minutes  while  he  wound  thin  arms  about 
her  and  murmured  endearments  which  held 
a  perfunctory  note  even  to  her  love-deaf- 
ened ears.    Presently  she  rose. 

"  Leo  Ricossia  is  making  quite  a  name 
by  his  prose  writing,"  she  said  with  forced 
cheerfulness.  "  I  must  try  to  keep  it  up, 
Liol.  Do  you  remember  when  I  called  you 
'  Liol '  once,  before  some  people  and  they 
thought  it  so  funny  and  we  were  so  wor- 
ried about  it?  Yet  you  see  no  one  has  ever 
suspected  anything." 

"  No.  If  they  did,  I  suppose  it  would 
have  to  come  out,"  said  the  boy,  slowly. 

"What?" 

Lynn  started  and  looked  confounded. 

"What?"  she  cried.  "Break  my  word 
to  my  dead  mother?  Tell  who  you  are? 
how  she  made  me  promise  to  keep  you 
and  watch  over  you  until  you  died  and  let 
no  one  know  who  you  were?- — What  are 
you  dreaming  of,  Liol  ?  " 

"  Why,  it's  nothing  to  me,"  returned  the 
other,  watching  her  composedly.  "  Girls 
must  go  into  heroics  over  something,  I  sup- 
pose;   but  you  must  see  for  yourself  that 


50  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

all  this  would  look  pretty  badly  if  it  came 
out  and  wasn't  explained,  and  it  would 
hardly  be  worth  while  to  lose  your  reputa- 
tion and  your  home  and  your  position  too, 
for  an  oath  to  a  dead  woman.  Too  bad 
you  have  to  come  here  by  night,  but,  of 
course,  day-time  is  impossible,  for  people 
would  be  sure  to  see  you,  whereas  the 
chances  are  ten  to  one  against  it  in  the 
dark  and  dressed  as  you  are.  That  absurd 
oath!  What  was  it  now?  And  she  was 
going  to  come  back  and  curse  you,  too,  if 
you  broke  it,  wasn't  she?"     He  laughed. 

"Our  mother,  Liol!"  said  Lynn,  in  a 
choked  voice. 

"  Yes,  our  mother.  I've  almost  forgot- 
ten what  she  looked  like  even,  but  I  sup- 
pose you  remember  her  better  than  I  do, 
though  I  don't  see  why  you  should,  con- 
sidering the  length  of  time  that  you  were 
away  from  her  and  —  see  here,  Lynn, 
you've  been  here  an  ungodly  time;  I  don't 
want  to  hurry  you,  but  —  oh,  I  say !  Am- 
herst is  puzzling  his  brains  out  as  to  how 
I  can  write  such  healthy,  humourous  prose. 
You  would  have  shouted  if  you  had  heard 
him,  the  other  night." 


"FORSAKEN    CREEKS"  51 

"  Perhaps.     But  I  must  go,  directly." 

Lynn  shivered  and  drew  her  fur  a  little 
more  closely  about  her  throat. 

"  I  must  go  now,  Liol,"  she  repeated  in  a 
low  voice.  "  Good-bye.  And  don't  —  but 
there!  what's  the  use  of  talking?  Do  as 
you  please,  dear;  only  try  to  love  me  a 
little  if  you  can.    You're  all  I've  got." 

"Mighty  Httle  at  that,  too!  You  have 
but  little  here  below  nor  will  you  have  that 
little  long  —  there,  don't  look  like  that,  old 
girl!     I'm  only  joking,  you  know." 

With  this  joke  ringing  in  her  ears  Lynn 
left;  passed  down  the  rickety  stairs, 
through  the  dark  doorway,  out  upon  the 
noisy  street.  It  was  not  a  savoury  neigh- 
bourhood this,  where  her  brother  had 
elected  to  take  up  his  abode.  In  fact,  it 
was  not  a  place  for  a  lady  at  any  hour  of 
the  day  or  night.  In  face  of  an  overpower- 
ing compulsion,  however,  a  woman  some- 
times forgets  that  she  is  a  lady,  and  this  was 
what  had  happened  in  Lynn's  case.  The 
love  which,  in  the  majority  of  instances,  is 
divided  among  parents,  brothers,  sisters, 
husband,  children,  had  been  concentrated 
upon  one  object.     A  foolish  vow  exacted 


52  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

by  a  delirious  and  dying  woman  had  be- 
come the  important  thing  in  Lynn  Thayer's 
life,  the  keeping  of  it  a  sacred  duty. 

We  are  usually  punished  both  for  our 
follies  and  our  virtues,  and  Lynn  was  cer- 
tainly severely  punished  for  hers.  Ricos- 
sia,  as  he  was  called,  in  Montreal,  kept  her 
on  a  constant  rack  of  uncertainty  and  sus- 
pense. Daily,  hourly,  she  expected  to  hear 
of  his  death  and,  sometimes,  in  moments 
of  more  than  usual  bitterness  and  grief, 
she  almost  wished  that  he  were  safe  in  the 
grave  and  incapable  of  doing  himself  or 
her  more  harm.  The  unworthiness  of  the 
loved  object,  moreover,  made  life  propor- 
tionately bitter;  the  necessity  for  constant 
deceit  and  stealth  was  a  cruel  necessity  to 
one  of  her  nature,  and  the  witty  tales  which 
helped  to  procure  her  brother  the  luxuries 
he  craved  were  frequently  written  in  an- 
guish of  heart  and  despair  of  spirit.  Poor 
Punchinello,  dancing  gaily  on  the  night  his 
love  died  and  his  heart  was  broken,  has 
many  a  modern  prototype. 

Yet  through  all  the  disgust  and  grief 
which  his  nature  and  actions  caused  her, 
her  love  never  faltered.    To  her,  the  drink- 


"FORSAKEN    CREEKS"  53 

ing,  drug-crazed  youth  in  whose  degenerate 
nature  there  was  not  a  trace  of  anything 
high  or  kind  was  the  baby  brother  of  early 
days;  the  baby  brother  whom  she  had 
tended,  adored,  sacrificed  and  been  sacri- 
ficed for  during  the  most  impressionable 
years  of  her  life.  The  tiny  creature  had 
crept  into  the  lonely  heart  of  the  child,  sat- 
isfying every  want,  sweetening  every  bit- 
terness. There  had  been  nothing  else  in 
Lynn's  life  that  had  held  comparison  with 
this. 


CHAPTER    IV 

A   BRILLIANT  MATCH 

"  Love  is  a  pastime  for  one's  youth ;   marriage,  a  provision 
for  one's  old  age." —  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler. 

"  For  life  is  not  the  thing  we  thought  and  not  the  thing  we 

plan, 
And  woman,  in  a  bitter  world,  must  do  the  best  she  can." 

—  Robert  Service. 

IN  order  that  the  reader  may  more  fully 
imderstand  the  foregoing  chapters  and 
the  predicament  in  which  certain  of  the 
characters  find  themselves,  it  is  necessary 
to  ask  him  to  return  with  us  to  a  period 
some  thirty  years  before,  when  a  certain 
young  lady,  known  as  Clara  Brooks,  had 
just  made  a  most  sensible  match. 

Now,  as  this  was  the  first  sensible  thing 
that  Miss  Brooks  had  ever  been  known  to 
do,  it  naturally  attracted  some  attention 
and  created  some  discussion.  For  she  was 
one  of  those  impossible  beings  who  want 
to  be  happy  and  who,  instead  of  viewing 
happiness  in  the  light  of  a  series  of  dis- 

54 


A    BRILLIANT    MATCH  55 

greetly  conducted  flirtations,  ending  in 
marriage  with  the  most  eligible  of  the  flir- 
tees,  had  persisted  in  prolonging  these  flir- 
tations to  a  really  indiscreet  period  of  time 
and  had  even  carried  her  folly  so  far  as 
to  refuse  two  or  three  really  desirable  of- 
fers. She  had  a  vague  yet  fairly  positive 
idea  that  marriage,  in  order  to  be  at  all 
happy  or  satisfactory,  must  be  based  on 
mutual  love  and  esteem,  and,  because  of 
this  antiquated  and  most  unfortunate  no- 
tion, she  had  remained  unmarried  until  the 
age  of  twenty-five. 

This  attitude  of  Clara's  laid  her  open  to 
much  well-deserved  censure.  There  were 
two  opinions  about  it;  the  first  being 
that  she  had  no  common  sense,  whatever; 
the  second  being  that  she  was  unfortu- 
nately romantic  and  fanciful,  yet  somewhat 
to  be  commended  in  that  her  ideals  were 
of  a  slightly  higher  order  than  those  of 
the  average  girl.  There  was  not  much 
truth  in  either  of  these  views.  Clara 
Brooks,  like  most  of  the  rest  of  the  world, 
was  supremely  selfish,  though  not  unpleas- 
antly so.  She  loved  love;  she  also  loved 
money;   she  wanted  to  be  happy,  whatever 


56  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

the  price  she  paid  for  happiness;  and  she 
did  not  care  to  do  anything  that  she 
thought  Hkely  to  miHtate  against  her  hap- 
piness.    That  was  all. 

It  seemed  very  hard  to  Clara,  who  pos- 
sessed beauty  of  quite  an  unusual  order, 
a  wheedling  tongue,  and  a  pretty  taste  in 
dress,  that  she  could  not  marry  both  for 
love  and  money.  She  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  marry  for  love,  however,  if  she 
had  been  obliged  to  make  a  choice.  This 
was  partly  because  she  had  never  known 
poverty  and  could  not  compute  its  discom- 
forts with  any  degree  of  accuracy;  but, 
also,  because  she  was  one  of  those  women 
who  are  capable  of  an  overpowering  infat- 
uation and  who  are,  therefore,  instinctively 
on  the  watch  for  a  possible  object  which 
may  awaken  it.  The  object  had  not  ap- 
peared ;  Clara  was  twenty-five,  and  twenty- 
five,  at  the  period  of  which  I  write,  was 
not  the  twenty-five  of  to-day.  Only  people 
of  unusual  fascination  and  prettiness,  such 
as  Miss  Brooks,  dared  to  be  unmarried  at 
twenty-five.  Already  her  enemies  were  be- 
ginning to  brand  her  with  the  awful  stigma 
of  "  old   maid,"   already   her   friends   were 


A    BRILLIANT    MATCH  57 

beginning  to  murmur  plaintively,  "  What 
can  she  be  thinking  about?" 

Clara's  thoughts  ended  in  a  very  usual 
fashion.  As  Prince  Charming  had  not  ar- 
rived; as  the  time  was  fast  approaching 
v^hen  she  would  be  relegated  to  the  dread- 
ful social  lumber  room  where  all  such  dere- 
licts of  love  were  stowed  by  grieving  rela- 
tives in  the  "good  old  days";  as  enemies 
were,  as  has  before  been  said,  beginning  to 
murmur  "  old  maid  "  behind  her  back,  and 
friends,  "silly  girl"  to  her  face;  for  all 
these  reasons  and  for  fifty  others,  Qara 
Brooks  suddenly  made  up  her  mind  to  ac- 
cept a  well-to-do  and  silent  man,  by  name 
Lowden  Thayer,  who  for  some  time  past 
had  been  obviously  attracted  by  her  un- 
doubted charms.  Now  the  sky  brightened 
for  Clara.  She,  as  a  bride-to-be,  received 
many  handsome  wedding  presents,  a  num- 
ber of  compliments  on  her  most  unexpected 
good  sense,  and  a  vast  amount  of  eminently 
imbecile  advice  from  well-meaning  igno- 
ramuses of  both  sexes. 

The  wedding  was  a  fine  one;  all  Clara's 
relatives  were  pleased  to  know  that  she  was 
settled  and  would  be  provided  for  until  the 


58  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

day  of  her  death  no  matter  how  ugly  or 
unpleasant  or  incapable  she  became  with 
age;  and  all  Lowden  Thayer's  relatives 
were  pleased  to  think  that  he  had  married 
at  all,  though  the  majority  of  them  felt  that 
he  had  made  a  most  unsuitable  choice. 
Wherein  they  were  undoubtedly  right. 

After  the  honeymoon,  the  Thayers  took 
up  their  abode  in  a  handsome  house  in  a 
fashionable  quarter  of  Montreal;  the  gen- 
tleman went  to  business  every  day  and  the 
lady  began  to  receive  and  return  calls  from 
the  elite  of  what  is  known  as  "  society." 

She  had  many  calls  of  all  kinds  to  return, 
for  she  had  fulfilled  the  whole  duty  of  civ- 
ilized woman;  she  had  married,  and  mar- 
ried well.  Within  a  year  she  further  ab- 
solved herself  of  blame  by  bringing  into 
the  world  a  little,  helpless  infant,  bald  and 
thin  and  red-faced,  who  howled  most  ob- 
jectionably and  seemed  as  indignant  at 
having  existence  thus  forced  upon  it  as 
though  it  knew  what  existence  really  was. 
Probably  it  was  no  prophetic  instinct  but 
some  more  prosaic  ailment  that  led  Clara's 
infant  daughter  to  make  night  hideous  with 
her  cries.     Be  that  as  it  may,  its  mother 


A    BRILLIANT    MATCH  59 

conceived  something  that  almost  amounted 
to  disHke  for  the  ugly  little  voyager  upon 
the  sea  of  life  for  whose  existence  she  was 
responsible.  She  loved  men  and  boys;  why 
then  should  she  give  birth  to  a  daughter? 
She  loved  beauty;  why  should  her  first- 
born be  devoid  even  of  hair?  Besides  .  .  . 
the  baby  resembled  its  father;  the  "good 
match  "  which  Fate  had  compelled  her  to 
make,  much  against  her  wishes;  the  de- 
tested crumple  in  her  bed  of  roses;  the 
hated  benefactor  to  whose  unwise  fancy 
she  was  indebted  for  board  and  clothing, 
place  in  society  and  honourable  title  of 
"married  woman";  the  loathed  necessity 
which  spoilt  everything  —  even  her  child  — 
for  her. 

This  much,  however,  must  be  said  for 
Clara  Thayer;  though  the  child  meant  less 
than  nothing  to  her,  she  did  not  neglect 
it  on  that  account.  She  may  have  been  an 
unnatural  mother,  but  she  was  not  a  soul- 
less brute,  and  she  therefore  attended  care- 
fully to  its  wants  and  saw  that  it  lacked 
for  nothing  that  she  could  give  it.  What 
she  could  not  give  it,  it  necessarily  went 
without;  but  she  did  her  duty  so  far  as  she 


6o  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

was  able  and  was  unexpectedly  and  munifi- 
cently rewarded.  For  when  her  little  girl 
was  three  years  of  age  its  father  died,  leav- 
ing her  a  wealthy  and  beautiful  widow. 

Now  when  Fortune  is  too  kind  to  us 
Fate  sometimes  plays  a  grim  joke,  in  order 
to  level  us  with  the  vast  mass  of  toiling, 
yearning,  disappointed,  suffering  fellow- 
humans.  This  is  what  Fate  did  with  Clara 
Thayer. 

She  was  young,  rich,  beautiful,  able  to 
marry  whom  she  pleased  and  live  as  she 
liked  without  let  or  hindrance.  Fate  had 
given  her  good  coin  with  which  to  purchase 
anything  her  vagrant  fancy  might  light 
upon.  She  might  have  chosen  whom  she 
would.  Therefore  she  chose  an  extremely 
good-looking  scoundrel  whose  Irish  mother 
and  Italian  father  had  bequeathed  to  him, 
together  with  the  light-hearted  fascina- 
tions of  their  kindred  natures,  the  sum  total 
of  every  vice  of  which  both  lands  are  ca- 
pable. The  sweet  kindness  of  heart  and 
warm  devotion  to  cause  and  kindred  which 
characterize  the  Italian  and  Irish  races  lay 
in  the  softness  of  his  dark  eyes,  the  velvet 
smoothness   of   his   voice,   but   were   quite 


A    BRILLIANT    MATCH  6i 

absent  from  his  nature.  This  Clara  Thayer 
did  not  know;  and,  had  she  known,  it  is 
more  than  probable  that  she  would  not 
have  cared.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
she  was  in  the  grip  of  a  perfectly  irrational 
fascination,  an  infatuation  which  drove  her 
as  a  whirlwind  might  drive  wheat.  The 
infatuation  ended,  moreover,  only  when  her 
life  did. 

This  was,  perhaps,  a  natural  ending  to 
Clara  Thayer's  career.  It  was  natural,  too, 
that  people  should  refer  to  her  as  that  poor 
girl  who  made  "  such  a  sensible  first 
match  "  and  "  such  an  idiotic  second  one." 
As  a  matter  of  fact  it  would  be  difficult  to 
determine  which  of  Clara's  two  marriages 
was  the  more  idiotic.  Her  first  was  for 
money,  her  second,  for  love.  Her  first  sup- 
plied her  with  good  food,  pretty  clothes 
and  unlimited  boredom.  Her  second  gave 
her  sharp  rapture  and  equally  poignant 
pain.  Possibly,  if  she  had  remained  un- 
married she  might  have  encountered  worse 
things  than  any  of  these.  Of  the  three 
wishes  which  the  bad  fairy,  Life,  gives  the 
average  woman  it  is  difficult  to  say  which 
is  the  least  fraught  with  unhappiness. 


62  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Woman  in  a  bitter  world  must  do  the 
best  she  can."  Clara  Brooks  did  the  best 
she  could  and  bad  was  the  best. 

However  she  died  at  forty-five,  and  many 
women  live  to  be  old. 


CHAPTER   V 

"BLIND   FOOLS   OF  FATE" 

"  Blind  fools  of  fate  and  slaves  of  circumstance. 
Life  is  a  fiddler  and  we  all  must  dance." 

—  Robert  Service. 

WHEN  Clara  Thayer  gave  birth 
to  a  daughter  she  was,  as  has 
been  before  stated,  disappointed. 
When  that  daughter  developed  the  appear- 
ance and  characteristics  of  its  father  Clara 
began  to  dislike  it.  In  vain  she  reasoned 
with  herself,  in  vain  upbraided  herself,  se- 
cretly and  severely,  in  vain  called  herself 
"  an  unnatural  mother."  The  sad  fact  re- 
mained that  she  did  not  care  for  the  child. 
It  had  no  pretty  ways,  no  graceful  tricks; 
its  eyes  were  dull,  its  skin  was  pale,  its  hair 
ordinary.  If  it  had  resembled  her  she 
would  have  loved  it;  if  it  had  resembled 
her  mother,  her  father,  anyone  for  whom 
she  cared,  she  would  have  idolized  it.     It 

63 


64  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

resembled  no  one,  however,  but  her  hus- 
band, and,  although  when  Clara  had  mar- 
ried Lowden  Thayer  she  had  been  su- 
premely indifferent  to  him,  that  indiffer- 
ence had,  unfortunately,  deepened  into  a 
positively  appalling  dislike.  Not  dislike  for 
his  character  which  she  respected;  not  dis- 
like for  his  attitude  toward  her  which  left 
nothing  to  be  desired;  no,  dislike  for  the 
man,  himself,  dislike  for  his  personality,  his 
manners,  his  way  of  entering  a  room,  his 
way  of  brushing  his  hair,  his  way  of  walk- 
ing, talking,  breathing. 

It  is  easy  here  for  the  reader  to  throw 
down  this  veracious  account  of  a  real 
woman  with  the  single  comment  that  she 
was  unreasonable  and  ungrateful.  It  is 
true  that  she  was  unreasonable  but  not 
that  she  was  ungrateful.  She  knew  all  that 
she  owed  to  her  husband,  she  sometimes 
hated  herself  for  her  lack  of  feeling,  and 
she  strove  earnestly  to  hide  her  dislike  and 
to  do  her  duty  in  a  way  befitting  a  wife 
and  mother.  It  was  a  bitter  addition  to 
what  seemed  to  her  an  already  difficult  life 
when  the  child,  to  whose  advent  she  had 
looked   with   so   much   hope   and   longing, 


"BLIND   FOOLS   OF   FATE"      65 

turned  out  the  counterpart  of  her  husband. 
Instead  of  a  distraction  it  was  a  perpetual 
reminder  of  the  galHng  chain;  instead  of 
a  dehght  it  represented  merely  another  dis- 
agreeable duty. 

Clara  was  generally  considered  a  model 
wife  and  mother;  every  domestic  obliga- 
tion was  scrupulously  performed,  every 
connubial  and  matronly  demand  upon  her 
time,  health  and  patience,  uncomplainingly 
complied  with.  When  Mr.  Thayer  died, 
however,  four  years  after  their  marriage, 
Clara  felt  only  an  unspeakable  relief;  and 
when,  nine  years  later,  Mr.  Thayer's 
brother  offered  to  adopt  Lynn,  on  condi- 
tion that  her  mother  gave  her  up,  entirely, 
Clara  felt  only  that  a  burden  had  been 
lifted  from  her  shoulders. 

She  had  one  child  by  her  second  husband 
after  she  had  been  married  to  him  five 
years,  and  that  child  was  a  boy  who 
combined  his  father's  picturesque,  foreign 
beauty  with  his  mother's  refinement  and 
grace.  To  him,  she  was  an  adoring 
mother;  he  was  second  in  her  heart  only 
to  Guido  Allardi.  Just  as  Lynn  had  been 
the   image   of   the   man   whom   Clara   had 


66  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

disliked,  so  Lionel  was  the  image  of  the 
man  whom  she  worshipped.  There  was  no 
wish  or  choice  in  the  matter;  she  always 
felt  sorry  that  she  could  not  care  for  Lynn, 
and  she  sometimes  wished,  in  moments  of 
bitterness,  that  Lionel  did  not  resemble  his 
father  so  closely.  It  was  a  rare  retribu- 
tion of  Fate,  this!  the  unloved  child  of 
the  unloved  father  who  was  all  that  a 
mother  could  wish  and  the  idolized  child 
of  the  idolized  father  who  inherited  from 
him  every  trait  that  could  break  a  mother's 
heart.  If  Lowden  Thayer  could  have 
looked  into  the  future  he  would  have  been 
amply  revenged.  It  is  improbable,  how- 
ever, that  he  wanted  revenge;  he  wanted 
his  wife's  love  and,  failing  that,  he  wanted 
rest.  He  never  had  the  first  but  we  may 
reasonably  hope  that  he  had  the  latter. 

"  Love's  eyes  are  very  blind,"  but  they 
are  never  so  blind  as  not  to  perceive  dislike 
on  the  part  of  the  loved  object,  however 
conscientiously  that  dislike  may  be  hidden. 
Lowden  Thayer  was  a  just  man;  he  saw 
that  his  wife  did  her  best  and  he,  on  his 
part,  did  his  best,  hid  his  sorrow  manfully, 
and,  when  he  died,  willed  Clara  all  his  prop- 


"BLIND   FOOLS   OF   FATE"      67 

erty,  unhampered  by  any  galling  restric- 
tions. 

The  little  daughter  whom  he  left  behind 
developed  in  a  rather  interesting  fashion. 

The  widely  diverse  natures  of  Lowden 
Thayer  and  his  wife  mingled  oddly  in  her. 
She  had  her  father's  face  but  her  mother's 
pliant,  graceful  figure  and  movements.  She 
inherited  from  her  father  a  useful  brain, 
capable  of  assimilating  considerable  knowl- 
edge and  of  reasoning  accurately  and  care- 
fully; but  she  had  her  mother's  brilliancy 
and  lively  wit.  She  had  her  father's  in- 
dustry, business  ability,  and  sense  of  justice, 
and  her  mother's  love  of  popularity  and 
social  gayety.  From  both  she  inherited 
one  thing  in  overwhelming  measure;  the 
capacity  for  any  amount  of  silent,  tena- 
cious affection  which  no  ill-treatment  could 
shake,  no  disillusionment  alter.  Another 
thing,  too,  she  had  from  both;  the  ability 
to  suffer  in  silence,  keeping  a  cool  and  care- 
less front  to  the  world  and  hiding  a  bleed- 
ing heart  and  a  broken  spirit  behind  a 
smiling  face  and  manner.  Lynn  was  thus, 
in  many  ways,  not  so  unlike  her  mother  as 
that  mother  supposed. 


68  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

At  the  time  when  Lynn  was  adopted  by 
her  uncle  Horace  she  was  twelve  years  of 
age.  The  next  seven  years  were  very  busy 
ones.  Child  though  she  was,  she  felt  keenly 
the  fact  that  her  uncle  had  taken  her  into 
his  home  in  fulfilment  of  a  sense  of  duty, 
rather  than  from  motives  of  affection.  She 
determined  that  she  would  be  indebted  to 
him  for  nothing  more  than  was  absolutely 
necessary.  In  pursuance  of  this  idea  she 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  train  for  a  teacher 
and,  on  graduating,  insisted  on  taking  a 
position  which  offered  itself.  Her  uncle 
made  little  objection;  he  cherished  the 
common  masculine  delusion  that  women 
who  live  at  home  have  nothing  to  do  with 
their  time  and  he  thought  it  rather  a  good 
idea  that  some  of  this  time  should  be  occu- 
pied. The  idea  of  his  niece  being  a  public 
school  teacher  did  not  exactly  appeal  to  his 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things;  but,  after 
all,  since  the  girl  was  bent  on  it,  "  let  her 
do  as  she  likes  "  was  his  ultimatum.  There- 
fore Lynn  did  as  she  liked;  and  events 
which  shortly  afterwards  transpired  made 
her  think  with  horror  of  the  fact  that,  had 
she  followed  her  aunt's  wishes,  she  would 


"BLIND   FOOLS   OF   FATE"      69 

have  been  without  any  money  that  she 
could  call  her  own. 

It  was  when  she  was  nineteen  that  she 
received  a  letter  in  an  unknown  hand- 
writing. Its  contents  were  brief  and  preg- 
nant. Her  mother  was  dying;  would  Lynn 
visit  her  in  New  York  before  she  died? 
as  there  was  much  that  she  had  to  say. 
The  letter  ended  with  an  injunction  to  hide 
the  matter  from  her  uncle  and  aunt,  who 
would  never  allow  her  to  travel  alone,  and 
would  insist  on  accompanying  her,  which 
her  mother  did  not  wish. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  effect 
which  this  letter  had  upon  Lynn.  She  had 
always  known  that  she  held  no  place  in 
her  mother's  heart,  and  that  knowledge  was 
a  settled  grief,  not  an  active  sorrow.  The 
letter  gave  her  a  dull  pain,  almost  like  the 
pain  which  one  would  experience,  could  the 
corpse  of  a  dead  friend  whom  one  had 
mourned,  then  almost  though  not  quite 
forgotten,  suddenly  come  to  life  and  de- 
mand recognition. 

Lynn  had  held  no  communication  with 
her  mother  since  she  had  lived  with  her 
uncle  in  Montreal.    To  her  literal  and  very 


70  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

punctilious  mind  the  fact  that  this  corre- 
spondence was  debarred  as  a  condition  of 
adoption  rendered  it  out  of  the  question. 
Besides,  it  must  be  remembered  that  there 
had  been  no  tender,  anguished  parting  of 
mother  and  child;  Clara  had,  as  always, 
behaved  prettily  and  politely,  had  kissed 
the  plain  little  face,  distorted  with  difficult 
feeling,  and  had  inwardly  congratulated 
herself  that  this  child  of  Lowden  Thayer 
had  inherited  his  silent,  unemotional  na- 
ture. Otherwise  she  would  have  felt  more 
hesitation  about  sending  her  among  stran- 
gers. As  it  was  —  the  child  was  a  good 
child,  who  could  be  depended  upon  to  give 
little  or  no  trouble  to  her  guardians,  and 
she  had  so  little  feeling  that  one  place  was 
likely  to  be  much  like  another  place  to  her. 
True,  Clara  reflected  with  a  slight  qualm, 
true,  the  child  was  devoted  to  her  little 
brother;  but  children  soon  forget.  It 
would  be  a  criminal  sentimentality  and  one 
for  which  the  girl  would  have  a  right  to 
reproach  her  in  the  future,  did  she  neglect 
this  excellent  chance  of  having  her  pro- 
vided for.  So  she  kissed  her  once  again, 
trying  to  smile  at  her  with  affection  and 


"BLIND   FOOLS   OF   FATE"      71 

kindness,  told  her  that  she  must  not  alto- 
gether forget  her  mother  and  her  little 
brother,  though  it  was  not  likely  that  she 
would  see  them  again  for  a  little  while; 
and  watched  the  train  steaming  out  of  the 
crowded  station  with  mingled  feelings  of 
pity,  relief,  self-congratulation,  and  some 
faint  stirring  of  sorrow  that  she  could  not 
feel  more  spontaneous  affection  for  her 
own  child.  Her  own  child!  —  that  recalled 
Lionel  to  her  mind  and  her  eyes  brightened 
and  gleamed.  How  beautiful  he  was!  how 
dear!  how  sweet  that  Fate  should  give  her 
this  one  lovely  thing  to  offset  her  disap- 
pointment in  the  other  direction!  And 
how  delightful  that  the  six  hundred  which 
Horace  Thayer  had  allowed  her  for  the 
future  should  be  tied  up  so  tightly  that 
only  she  could  have  access  to  it.  Little 
Lionel  need  not  lack  for  everything  while 
she  had  that  to  fall  back  upon. 

It  may  be  asked  if  no  thought  of  her  dead 
husband,  no  perception  of  the  difference 
between  him  and  Allardi  ever  caused  her 
to  draw  painful  contrasts  and  inferences. 
Yes,  these  thoughts,  these  comparisons  did 
occur  to  her  sorrowfully  enough  at  times; 


72  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

she  frequently  bewailed  the  ugly  Fate 
which  made  the  faithful  dead  abhorrent, 
the  unprincipled  and  worthless  living  dear 
to  her.  But  facts  are  facts.  The  dead  was 
abhorrent,  the  living  was  dear.  So  with 
her  children.  Despite  the  fact  that,  al- 
though at  the  time  of  which  we  write, 
Lionel  was  a  baby,  he  already  displayed 
traits  which  made  her  uneasy;  despite  the 
fact  that  Lynn  had  been  almost  pathetically 
"  good "  from  babyhood,  humbly  devoted 
to  her  mother,  utterly  subservient  to  every 
whim  of  her  baby  brother;  despite  these 
facts,  Clara  had  for  Lynn,  at  best,  a  sort 
of  affectionate  tolerance,  while  for  Lionel 
she  had  an  overpowering  love. 

Do  not,  dear  reader,  wholly  bury  poor 
Clara  under  the  weight  of  your  virtuous 
indignation.  She  had  an  unfortunate  dis- 
position, that  was  all.  The  worthless  at- 
tracted, the  worthy  annoyed  her.  She  was 
no  more  to  blame  than  the  child  who  seizes 
some  pernicious  sweetmeat  and  refuses 
even  to  look  at  the  nourishing  and  expen- 
sive meal  which  awaits  his  pleasure. 

This  much,  at  least,  it  is  desired  that  the 
reader  keep  clearly  in  mind  when  judging 


"BLIND   FOOLS   OF   FATE"      73 

Clara  Allardi.  Both  in  her  "  mariage  de 
convenance  "  and  in  her  "  love-match  "  she 
made  the  best  of  what  she  had;  tried  not 
to  visit  upon  Lowden  Thayer  the  dislike 
which  marriage  with  him  had  awakened; 
endeavoured  to  bear  patiently  with  Guido 
Allardi's  vagaries  and  steadily  refused  to 
leave  him  even  when  all  her  own  money 
had  been  squandered  and  when  he  was  in- 
capable of  making  enough  to  support 
her,  comfortably.  This  last,  though,  can 
scarcely  be  attributed  to  her  for  righteous- 
ness. The  real  reason  that  she  stayed  with 
the  Italian  was  because  she  could  not  leave 
him;  she  was  like  a  parasite,  drawing  her 
very  breath  through  him  and  unable  to 
exist  away  from  him. 

Poor  Clara  Allardi !  "  Blind  fool  of  fate 
and  slave  of  circumstance!"  When  her 
unloved  daughter  responded  to  the  letter 
which  had  caused  her  such  mingled  pain 
and  joy,  she  found  the  former  favourite  of 
fortune  living  —  or,  rather,  dying  —  in  the 
modern  equivalent  of  the  historic  garret, 
a  squalid  tenement  in  an  unfashionable  and 
ragged  quarter  of  the  great  city  of  New 
York.     Her  mother's   husband,   Lynn   did 


74  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

not  see;  the  strain  of  attending  to  his  sick 
wife  had  proved  unsupportable  and,  after 
a  short  time,  he  had  taken  his  departure, 
leaving  no  address.  Lynn  hoped  that  he 
would  not  return  until  she  had  left  New 
York;  she  felt,  seeing  her  mother  and  re- 
membering what  that  mother  had  been  in 
the  past,  that  she  could  scarcely  have  borne 
the  burden  of  his  presence.  Her  fears, 
however,  were  unnecessary;  Clara  Allardi 
had  been  dead  several  days  before  that  hus- 
band returned  and  his  absence  had  troubled 
Lynn  more  than  his  presence  could  have 
done;  for  it  was  from  him  that  she  was 
obliged  to  ask  the  boon  which  crippled  her 
future  yet  filled  her  life  for  many  years. 

This,  however,  is  anticipating.  We  must 
return  to  the  time  when  Lynn  took  up  her 
abode  in  her  mother's  "  home  "  once  more 
and  did  what  she  could  for  the  comfort  of 
that  mother.  She  had  complied  with 
Clara's  request  in  so  far  that  she  had  told 
her  guardians  of  her  destination;  she  had 
gone  to  the  principal  of  the  school  where 
she  taught  and  had  asked  for  leave  of  ab- 
sence, ofiFering  to  pay  a  substitute;  then 
had  packed  a  valise  and  left  a  note  for  her 


"BLIND   FOOLS   OF   FATE"      75 

aunt,  explaining  her  mother's  condition  and 
begging  that  her  uncle  would  not  follow 
or  bother  about  her.  This  was  merely  a 
figure  of  speech  on  Lynn's  part;  Horace 
Thayer  was  a  man  who  never  bothered 
about  anything  in  the  universe  but  himself. 
Lynn  realized,  however,  that  her  aunt,  who 
had  a  real  affection  for  her,  ought  to  know 
her  whereabouts  and  the  object  of  her  jour- 
ney; though,  in  the  face  of  her  mother's 
strangely  insistent  entreaties,  she  was 
strongly  tempted  to  use  a  long-standing 
New  York  invitation  from  a  school  friend, 
as  a  pretext. 

She  found  her  mother  delirious  and  very 
weak.  She  talked  incoherently,  but  recog- 
nized Lynn  and  greeted  her  with  some- 
thing like  eagerness,  in  the  way  that  one 
would  greet  a  useful  friend  rather  than  in 
the  way  that  one  would  greet  a  child  whom 
one  had  not  seen  for  many  years.  Lynn, 
however,  had  steeled  herself  to  bear  what 
she  had  anticipated  would  not  be  an  espe- 
cially joyous  reunion  and  took  stoically 
whatever  arrows  the  joyous  fates  chose  to 
drive  in  her  direction. 

Must  the  truth  be  confessed  ?    It  was  not 


76  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

the  thought  of  seeing  her  mother  before 
she  died  that  had  formed  Lynn's  chief  ob- 
ject in  hastening  to  New  York.  While  she 
would,  in  any  case,  have  used  every  effort 
to  further  her  mother's  dying  wish,  it  must 
be  confessed  that  there  was  little  more  than 
a  bitter,  dull  grief  in  the  prospect  of  seeing 
the  latter,  again.  But  there  was  another, 
darling  prospect.  The  child!  the  little  boy 
who  had  been  three  when  she  left  him, 
would  be  ten,  now.  Oh,  to  see  him,  again! 
the  one  being  who  had  always  clung  to  her, 
loved  her,  satisfied  her.  The  dear,  unutter- 
ably dear  little  mortal  whose  arrival  into 
the  world  had  changed  the  face  of  life  for 
her.  How  had  she  lived  without  him  all 
these  years?  she  wondered;  was  he  as 
beautiful  as  ever,  as  full  of  life  and  sweet- 
ness? and  —  had  he  come  to  resemble  his 
father  as  much  as  he  had  promised  to  do? 
The  thought  depressed  her  for  a  moment; 
she  remembered  how,  as  a  child,  it  had 
infuriated  her  to  hear  people  remark  upon 
the  wonderful  likeness  between  Allardi  and 
his  infant  son.  Then  her  brow  cleared. 
He  was  really  more  like  her  mother  than 
his  father,  she  insisted  to  herself;    as  he 


"BLIND   FOOLS   OF   FATE"      77 

had  her  high-bred  clearness  of  outline,  so 
he  would  inherit  her  delicate  refinement, 
her  ineradicable  fastidiousness  of  mind. 
She  lost  herself  in  hopeful  musing,  almost 
forgetting  in  the  joy  of  seeing  her  little 
brother  once  more  that  her  mother's  grave 
would  probably  be  dug  before  she  returned 
again  to  Montreal. 


CHAPTER   VI 

"LIFE  AT  ITS   END" 

THE  April  morning  broke  softly,  im- 
placably chill.  There  was  a  hint 
of  cruelty  in  the  frolicsome  spring 
breeze  that  danced  through  the  half-opened 
window,  a  hint  of  sorrow  in  the  few  faint 
tremulous  notes  of  "  half-awakened  birds," 
preparing  once  more  to  face  the  strange 
world  of  which  they  knew  so  little.  There 
was  something  ominous  in  the  softness  of 
the  spring  air,  something  that  chilled  one's 
blood  with  a  faint  terror. 

Over  the  dreary  tenements  and  horrible, 
rearing  buildings  of  New  York  broke  the 
pitiless  day.  The  lovely  rose  of  dawn 
softened  all  that  was  bare  and  bleak  and 
gave  it  a  semblance  of  tenderness  and  re- 
pose. 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  where 
Death    lay   waiting.      The   body    of    Clara 

78 


"LIFE   AT    ITS    END"  79 

Allardi  lay  stretched  upon  a  bed  in  slum- 
ber, her  wasted  hand,  blue-veined,  marble- 
white,  plucking  mechanically  at  the  quilt, 
her  restless  voice  muttering  vaguely  of 
things  that  had  long  since  passed  away; 
lips  that  had  laughed,  pulses  that  had 
leaped,  hearts  that  had  broken,  long,  long 
ago.  Death,  itself,  might  have  laughed  to 
hear  her;   but  her  daughter  did  not  laugh. 

Clara's  face  was  blue-veined  now  and 
hollow-eyed,  but,  even  so,  was  lovely;  deli- 
cately, uselessly  lovely,  with  the  flawless 
pulchritude  of  a  marble  statue,  the  sicken- 
ing, unearthly  hue  of  ivory.  Clara  Allardi 
had  been  very  beautiful  in  her  day,  had  had 
her  share  of  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
and  the  glories  of  them;  she  lay  dying  in 
a  New  York  tenement,  unloved,  uncared- 
for,  an  old  woman  at  the  age  of  forty-five. 

Nature  "  red  of  tooth  and  claw  "  is  some- 
times more  horrible  in  tender  mood  than 
in  fierce;  this  riot  of  delicate  colour  and 
tremulous  song  in  the  face  of  grisly  Death 
seemed  to  Lynn  Thayer  insulting  and  in- 
decorous. The  tragedy  of  the  breaking  day 
and  of  the  ebbing  life  gnawed  at  her  heart. 
She   sat   silent,   watching   the   dying  with 


So  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

hungry  eyes  that  held  no  trace  of  personal 
grief,  only  a  dumb  heart-craving  for  some- 
thing she  had  never  known. 

In  the  farther  end  of  the  room  lay  a  child 
who  slept  peacefully,  his  scarlet  lips  half- 
parted  in  a  smile,  his  delicate  arms  thrust 
outside  the  bed-clothes  and  half-bared. 
The  long  black  lashes  which  lay  on  the 
glowing  dusk  of  his  cheek;  the  thickness 
of  the  clustering  curls  which  shaded  his 
low  brow;  the  almost  insolent  regularity 
of  his  childish  features :  all  proclaimed  him 
to  be  Guido  Allardi's  son.  He  was  an  ideal 
and  faithful  representative  of  the  old,  Ital- 
ian race  to  which  his  father  belonged;  be- 
fore the  family,  ruined  and  disgraced,  had 
sought  refuge  in  America,  many  such  a 
face  had  been  seen  in  the  family  portrait 
gallery.  Probably  none  quite  so  beautiful; 
beauty  such  as  this  child's  is  rare  and  the 
possessors  of  it  are  seldom  quite  human. 
Perhaps  this  fact  may  have  given  rise  to  the 
old  Greek  myths  of  the  gods  descending 
in  human  shape  and  proceeding  to  the  per- 
formance of  most  ungodlike  actions. 

Lynn's  thoughts  wandered  sometimes  to 
the  cot  where  the  boy  lay,  looking  as  much 


"LIFE   AT    ITS    END"  8i 

out  of  place  in  the  sordid  setting  which  the 
room  afforded  as  some  strange  tropical 
plant.  As  she  thought  ^f  him,  her  face 
insensibly  cleared.  The  baby  brother  of 
her  childhood  days  had  proved  a  fulfilled 
delight.  As  beautiful  as  in  infancy  and 
with  the  same  caressing,  clinging  ways 
which  had  made  him  so  dear  to  her  then, 
he  had  justified,  to  her,  her  loving  remem- 
brance of  him.  She  cherished  a  hidden 
thought  of  which  she  was  half  ashamed  yet 
which  held  a  very  real  sweetness;  namely, 
that,  in  spite  of  the  long  years  of  separa- 
tion, the  boy  loved  and  clung  to  her  and, 
as  of  old,  seemed  to  prefer  her  society  to 
that  of  his  mother.  She  failed  to  realize 
that  the  stock  of  bonbons  and  toys  with 
which  she  had  provided  herself  had  induced 
the  affection  which  the  child  showed  so 
freely;  she  did  not  know  that  he  would 
have  left  his  dying  mother  with  equal  alac- 
rity for  anyone  who  would  have  fed  him 
with  chocolates.  So  little  do  we  compre- 
hend what  is  passing  in  the  minds  of  those 
most  near  and  dear  to  us ;  even  in  the  crys- 
tal mind  of  a  child  there  are  depths  which 
it  is  just  as  well  not  to  probe  too  deeply. 


82  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

In  the  bare  and  comfortless  room  where 
these  three  were  congregated  Life  and 
Death  were  present  and  one  more  —  Judg- 
ment. Judgment,  the  dread  avenger  who 
dogs  the  steps  of  Sin.  Judgment  which, 
after  the  fashion  of  Judgment,  would  fall 
most  heavily  on  the  innocent  head,  most 
cruelly  on  the  undeserving.  Could  Lynn 
have  looked  into  the  future  and  seen  the 
awful  harvest  of  corruption  which  the 
sleeping  child  would  reap  it  may  be  won- 
dered whether  she  would  not  have  killed 
him  as  he  lay,  out  of  sheer  pity. 

Ah,  the  tragedy  of  Life!  Life  that  takes 
from  us  one  by  one  all  the  glittering  bau- 
bles with  which  she  has  amused  our  child- 
ish hours  —  the  rose-hued  hopes,  the  crim- 
son loves,  the  golden  ambitions  —  and 
gives  us  in  their  place  —  what?  The  dying 
moaned  as  though  these  thoughts  had 
found  an  echo  in  her  heart;  then  lay  still, 
looking  straight  in  front  of  her  with  eyes 
which,  though  glazed  and  uncertain,  held 
a  certain  intelligence. 

"Mother  —  are  you  better?  do  you  un- 
derstand me?"  asked  Lynn  very  softly, 
bending  over  the  bed. 


"LIFE   AT    ITS    END"  83 

Clara  Allardi  turned  her  head  sHghtly; 
her  Hps  moved. 

"  There  was  something,  something  you 
wanted  to  say,"  cried  Lynn,  desperately. 
"If  you  could  only  tell  me  now;  it  will 
not  take  long,  will  it?" 

Her  mother's  face  brightened  into  life; 
an  anxious  gleam  shone  in  her  eyes  which 
now  held  no  uncertainty,  but  were  the 
homes  of  an  insistent  purpose,  a  keen  de- 
sire. She  struggled  a  moment,  then  spoke, 
faintly. 

"Your  brother?  "  — 

"Yes.     Yes." 

"  Not  really  —  only  your  half-brother  — 
but  you  always  cared  just  as  much  "  — 

"  More,  Oh,  mother,  a  thousand  times 
more.  Don't  waste  time  in  saying  all  this. 
Is  it  something  you  want  me  to  do  for 
Lionel?  Surely  you  know  that  anything  I 
could  do  would  be  all  too  little  —  tell  me, 
just  tell  me  what  it  is.  I  swear  to  do  it, 
whatever  it  may  be." 

"  See  to  him.   His  father  —  you  know  "  — 

"  I  know." 

"  —  Doesn't  understand  children  —  the 
little  fellow  may  be  hungry,  cold  "  —  Clara 


84  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Allardi's  voice  broke  into  a  pitiful  quaver 
which  shook  Lynn's  composure,  terribly. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  growing  white  and 
speaking  distinctly,  "  you  are  wasting  time 
and  you  may  not  have  much  more  time. 
You  know  —  you  must  know  —  that,  while 
I  live,  Liol  shall  want  for  nothing  that 
I  can  give  him.  He  can  never  be  cold 
—  or  hungry  —  or  friendless  —  or  —  love- 
less —  while  I  live.  You  must  know  all 
that.  I  have  my  teacher's  salary;  if  that 
is  not  enough  I  will  get  money  in  some 
other  way;  I  have  some  saved,  I  have  some? 
jewelry  —  oh,  don't  talk  of  anything  so  triv- 
ial, so  absurd,  as  the  idea  of  Lionel  ever 
wanting  for  anything  which  I  can  give 
him.  You  understand  all  that,  don't  you, 
mother?  " 

Her  mother's  face  cleared,  then  clouded. 

"  You  may  marry  —  change  ?  "  she  mut- 
tered, looking  wistfully  at  her  daughter. 

"  Never !  "  said  Lynn,  choking.  "  You 
don't  understand  me,  mother.  I  could 
never  think  of  marriage  while  Liol  was 
dependent  on  me;  and,  as  for  change  — 
if  that  is  all,  you  can  die  happy." 

"  Swear,"  said  her  mother,  faintly. 


"LIFE   AT    ITS    END"  85 

Lynn  hesitated.  "  I  don't  like  swearing," 
she  returned,  reluctantly,  "  but,  if  it  will 
make  you  any  happier  —  I  swear  by  every- 
thing in  heaven  and  earth  —  by  God  Al- 
mighty—  by  the  memory  of  my  father  — 
that  I  will  do  exactly  as  I  have  said.  I 
will  look  after  Lionel  always,  always,  no 
matter  what  it  costs  me.  Now  are  you 
satisfied?" 

"  You  won't  be  hard  on  him  —  he  is," 
she  winced,  "  he  is  —  Guido's  child.  We 
don't  —  don't  always  understand  foreigners 
—  women  don't  always  —  understand  — 
men.  You  will  remember?  —  you  will 
think  of  his  heritage  —  and  be  merciful? 
I  have  always  had  to  be."  Her  voice 
dropped  and  broke  in  a  dry  sob. 

"  If  he  develops  into  what  your  husband 
is,"  returned  Lynn,  quietly,  "  it  will  make 
no  difference.  You  don't  understand  me, 
mother.  Just  as  you  never  left  the  other 
one,  because  you  couldn't,  because  you 
wouldn't  have  cared  to  live  away  from  him ; 
so  I  —  I  couldn't  desert  Liol.  I  have  al- 
ways loved  him;  how  dearly  you  have 
never  even  guessed.  I  shall  always  love 
him  and  —  and  when  he  leaves  his  father 


86  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

and  goes  to  a  good  school  and  knows  only- 
good  people  "  — 

"  It's  in  his  blood,"  said  his  mother, 
faintly.  "  Already  —  already  it  shows. 
You  —  you  must  make  —  allowances.  An- 
other thing!"  she  attempted  to  raise  her- 
self in  the  bed  and  her  eyes  shone  with 
a  feverish  glitter,  "another  thing,  Lynn! 
No  one  must  know."  Her  voice  grew 
firmer,  her  hand  more  steady.  "  You  re- 
member the  conditions  —  when  your  un- 
cle "  — 

"  I  remember  them  well.  But,  dear 
mother,  you  don't  think  Uncle  Horace 
would  hold  me  to  them  —  now?" 

"  Horace  is  hard  —  a  hard  man.  When 
—  if  —  Liol  did  take  after  his  father  —  they 
would  never  let  you  see  him  —  or  know 
him.  No.  If  I  am  to  die  in  peace  you  must 
swear  never  to  tell  a  living  soul  that  he  is 
your  brother.  If  anyone  at  all  knew  — 
your  uncle  might  find  out  —  oh,  Lynn, 
promise?  " 

Lynn  spoke,  slowly.  "  You  have  not 
thought,  mother.  This  secrecy  will  lead 
to  all  sorts  of  complications.  Uncle  Hor- 
ace is  a  hard  man,  but  he  is  just.    He  will 


"LIFE   AT    ITS    END"  87 

grumble  and  think  me  a  fool,  but  he  can't 
refuse  his  consent.  At  present  —  for  a 
while  —  it  won't  matter,  not  telling  any- 
one about  Liol ;  but  later  on  —  oh,  mother, 
don't  ask  me  to  promise  that.  Let  me  use 
my  discretion  about  it,  won't  you?" 

Clara  Allardi  half  raised  herself  in  bed; 
her  eyes  shone  with  unnatural  lustre,  her 
delicate  features  thickened  with  a  sort  of 
fury  and  fever  of  determination. 

"You  refuse?"  she  said  with  terrible 
distinctness.  "You  refuse?  Then  —  I 
curse  you.  I  curse  you.  You  —  you're 
taking  your  revenge  now  when  I'm  dying 
and  helpless  for  the  years  that  I've  put 
him  before  you.  I  curse  you  —  why  can't 
you  let  me  die  in  peace?  You'll  tell  — 
you'll  tell  the  Thayers;  they'll  make  you 
give  him  up  or  turn  you  out  of  doors.  How 
will  you  look  after  him  then  on  a  miserable 
pittance  that  depends  upon  your  strength 
anyway  and  may  fail  at  any  moment?  Ah, 
you're  your  father  in  the  flesh,"  —  she 
spoke,  slowly  and  with  a  concentrated  bit- 
terness that  appalled  Lynn.  "  Good  —  hard 
—  hateful !  Why  did  I  ever  bring  you  into 
the  world?" 


88  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  That  I  might  look  after  the  child  whom 
you  love,  I  suppose,"  returned  Lynn  with 
equal  bitterness.  "  Have  no  fear,  mother. 
You  needn't  curse  me.  If  nothing  else  will 
make  you  happy,  I'll  swear.  You  know,  of 
course,  that  you're  making  me  deceive  and 
lie  to  my  guardians  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  world  and  that  you  may  land  me  in 
hopeless  confusion  and  trouble;  but  if  you 
think  that  will  benefit  Liol  and  minimize 
the  chances  of  his  being  deprived  of  any- 
thing or  annoyed  in  any  way  —  why,  of 
course,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said  — 
is  there?" 

But  Clara  Allardi  had  sunk  back  with  a 
look  of  satisfaction  and  relief  at  hearing 
her  daughter's  bitter  promise  to  take  the 
oath  required,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether 
she  even  heard  the  rest. 

"  Swear,  then ! "  was  all  she  answered. 

Lynn  hesitated;  looked  imploringly  at 
her  mother;  then  slowly  and  reluctantly 
repeated  her  former  oath.  "  By  God  Al- 
mighty—  by  the  memory  of  my  father  — 
by  all  I  hold  sacred  in  heaven  and  earth 
—  mother,  mother,  mother!" 

Clara's  fair  face  had  turned  the  colour  of 


"LIFE   AT    ITS    END"  89 

parchment;  no  breath  of  Hfe  seemed  issu- 
ing from  her  blue  Hps.  Struck  by  a  deadly- 
fear,  a  still  more  poignant  longing,  Lynn 
Thayer  bent  over  her  mother's  death-bed, 
yearning  with  an  intensity  which  surprised 
herself,  for  some  word  of  kindness,  of  rec- 
ognition, ere  the  poor  dust  turned  to  dust. 
It  almost  seemed  as  though  her  prayer  had 
been  answered,  for  Clara  opened  her  eyes 
and  looked  at  Lynn,  a  lovely  light  of  long- 
ing in  them.     Her  lips  moved  faintly. 

"My  child!"  —  the  whisper  came  softly 
—  "  my  boy  —  my  only  child !  " 

She  did  not  realize,  of  course,  what  she 
was  saying.  Lynn  understood  that.  She 
rose  from  her  knees,  with  lips  firmly  set. 
Her  face  was  a  little  white. 

"  You  want  to  see  him  again,"  she  said, 
in  tones  which  sounded  clearly.  "  I  will 
bring  him  to  you." 

Mrs.  Allardi's  face  brightened.  Lynn 
had  divined  her  inmost  thought.  She 
yearned  for  the  child.  She  hungered  to 
die,  holding  him.  But  Fate,  implacable  as 
iron  to  the  profitless  wishes  of  poor  foolish, 
failing,  mortal  things,  decreed  otherwise. 
A  change  on  the  dying  face,  an  ominous 


90  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

rattle  and  choking,  arrested  Lynn's  foot- 
steps and  brought  her  hurriedly  back. 

Clara  Allardi  gasped  a  little,  a  very  little, 
then  lay  quiet.  Lynn  stood  and  watched 
her,  looking  pinched  and  plain  in  the  try- 
ing light  of  early  dawn.  The  other  woman 
lay  with  eyes  that  stared  a  little.  Presently 
Lynn  realized  that  she  was  dead;  it  did 
not  come  as  a  shock,  only  as  an  added  deso- 
lation. She  leaned  forward  and  touched 
the  cold  cheek,  timidly. 

"Mother!"  she  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"Mother!" 

There  was  a  brief  and  bitter  silence. 
Then  Lynn  took  the  cold  head  in  her  arms 
and  held  it  for  a  moment  while  her  tears 
fell  fast  and  bitterly  over  it. 

"  She  was  my  mother,"  she  said,  weep- 
ing, "she  —  was  —  my  mother!"  There 
was  no  complaint  in  her  tones,  only  a  dull 
pain.  Her  face  held  an  unconscious  deso- 
lation as  she  laid  the  fair  head  back  on  the 
pillow  and  settled  it,  decently.  She  shiv- 
ered a  little  as  one  soft,  scented  tress  fell 
against  her  hand.  She  had  never  touched 
her  mother's  hair  in  life  and,  oddly  enough, 
this   trifling  remembrance  cut   her  to  the 


"LIFE   AT    ITS    END"  91 

naked  soul.  She  gasped  and  looked  away, 
choking  down  her  rising  sobs  with  a  species 
of  horror  and  disgust.  Life  had  taught  her 
self-control,  and  she  disliked  noise  in  the 
presence  of  the  dead. 

Presently  she  rose  and  moved  softly  to 
the  cot  where  the  boy  lay  sleeping.  She 
looked  at  him  in  silence.  He  stirred  in  his 
sleep  and  smiled  a  little.  Her  sallow  face 
flamed  into  sudden  life  and  beauty  as  she 
stood,  watching  him,  an  adoring  smile 
curving  her  thin  lips.  She  had  forgotten 
the  other  silent  inmate  of  the  room  who 
lay,  smiling  too,  the  dead  eyes  which  her 
daughter  had  forgotten  to  close,  gazing  in 
front  of  her  as  though  she  saw  nothing  to 
fear  in  the  eternity  upon  which  she  had 
entered. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  burst  of  radiance, 
a  riot  of  colour  and  fragrance  and  song. 
The  chill,  pink  light  of  sunrise  streamed 
through  the  window  and  lay  on  the  dead 
face,  making  it  very  lovely.  A  delicate 
rose  was  reflected  in  the  icy  cheek,  a  bril- 
liant gold  in  the  faded  hair.  Lynn,  who  had 
turned,  startled  by  the  sudden  light,  was 
struck   by   her   mother's   beauty.     Despite 


92  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

anxiety,  illness,  sorrow,  Clara  AUardi  made 
rather  an  exquisite  corpse;  and,  as  her 
plain  daughter  sat  watching  her  in  the  try- 
ing light  of  early  dawn,  she  reflected  with 
a  smile  that  held  no  mirth  that  even  in 
death  it  was  well  to  have  regular  features 
and  abundance  of  soft  hair.  Then  her  face 
changed  and  softened.  She  moved  rever- 
ently to  the  side  of  the  bed,  veiled  the  star- 
ing eyes,  crossed  the  thin  hands.  Then  she 
knelt  and  prayed;  while  far,  immeasurably 
far  below,  the  slow  wail  of  the  sick  child, 
the  low  moan  of  the  hungry  animal,  smote 
on  the  deaf  ear,  the  cold  heart,  of  great 
New  York. 


CHAPTER   VII 

A   SHORT  REPENTANCE 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  Repentance  oft  before 
I  swore  —  but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore? 
And  then  and  then  came  Spring  and  rose-in-hand 
My  thread-bare  Penitence  apieces  tore. 

—  The  Rubaiyat. 

NINE  years  had  passed  since  the 
events  related  in  the  last  chapter. 
Lynn  Thayer  had  developed  from 
a  girl  of  nineteen  into  a  v^oman  of  tw^enty- 
eight.  She  had  lived  quietly  in  Montreal, 
never  relinquishing  her  position  in  the 
school,  though,  as  the  years  went  by,  her 
aunt  had  more  than  once  begged  her  to 
remain  at  home  and  lead  the  life  of  an 
ordinary  young  woman  of  her  class. 

As  has  before  been  said,  Lynn  occupied 
a  rather  exceptional  position  in  Montreal. 
The  average  girl  who  teaches  in  the  public 
schools  makes  up  her  mind,  sooner  or  later, 
to  be  a  teacher,  only.  Her  position  is  not 
considered  in  the  light  of  a  disgrace,  but, 

93 


94  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

on  the  other  hand,  she  occupies  a  slightly 
lower  grade  than  does  the  girl  who  remains 
at  home.  The  latter,  provided  she  has  the 
social  connections  and  the  time,  may  go 
into  any  society  she  pleases.  She  may  be 
unable  to  return  any  hospitality  except  in 
a  very  simple  fashion,  but  she  may  still  fig- 
ure as  a  "  society  girl "  and  receive  and 
accept  invitations  in  the  most  exclusive 
houses. 

Probably  no  other  girl  but  Lynn,  how- 
ever, was  ever  successful  in  combining  the 
duties  of  a  public  school  teacher  and  of  a 
society  girl.  Both  her  father  and  mother 
had  been  so  well-to-do,  so  well-known  in 
Montreal;  both  had  had  so  many  rich 
friends,  so  many  influential  connections, 
that  their  daughter  was  of  necessity  a  fig- 
ure of  interest.  Then,  too,  she  was  con- 
nected with  the  nobility;  and,  what  was 
more  important,  her  aunts  on  both  sides 
of  the  family,  who  lived  in  Montreal,  re- 
ceived and  returned  visits  from  the  most 
exclusive  Butchers,  Bakers  and  Candle- 
stick-Makers, and  were  generally  accepted 
as  "  fixtures  "  in  society.  Therefore  Lynn 
had  invitations  of  all  kinds,  not  only  from 


A   SHORT    REPENTANCE         95 

people  of  gentle  breeding,  aristocratic  birth 
and  good  character,  but  also  from  that  far 
more  important  section  of  "  society  "  who 
lived  in  big  houses  and  got  their  clothes 
from  Paquin.  She  never  "  came  out,"  much 
to  her  aunt's  grief;  but  she  "went  out," 
which  was  more  to  the  point  and  which 
many  girls  who  "  come  out "  never  succeed 
in  doing.  She  was  so  popular,  so  generally 
liked,  that  her  obstinate  determination  to 
spend  her  days  in  teaching  was  both  ad- 
mired and  extolled. 

Meanwhile,  what  of  her  brother? 

On  Mrs.  Allardi's  death  Lynn  had  se- 
cured from  hrs  father,  who  appeared  su- 
premely indifferent  to  the  child  and  to  his 
fate,  a  promise  that  she  was  to  have  full 
control  of  him,  on  condition  of  paying  for 
his  board  and  education.  Lynn,  after  con- 
siderable thought,  made  arrangements  for 
him  at  a  good  but  unfashionable  school  in 
the  country,  as  far  as  possible  removed 
from  his  father.  She  was  struck  by  the 
attitude  of  father  and  son  to  one  another. 
Allardi  seemed  to  regard  his  small  son  as 
an  amusing  kind  of  dog,  to  be  patted  on 
the  head  if  he  were  in  a  good   humour, 


96  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

kicked  out  of  the  way  if  he  were  not;  he 
was  proud  of  him,  in  a  way,  devoted  to 
him;  yet,  apparently,  never  thought  any- 
thing of  his  present  wants  or  of  his  future 
needs.  He  was  quite  capable  of  leaving 
the  child  alone  for  days  while  he  sought 
distraction  elsewhere,  and  of  loading  him 
with  bonbons  and  caresses  on  his  return. 

He  felt  that  if  this  queer,  silent  step- 
daughter of  his  chose  to  supplement  a  small 
allowance  which  Mr.  Thayer  had  promised 
to  make  the  boy,  he  would  be  very  foolish 
to  stand  in  the  way.  He  could  make  any 
promise  she  chose  to  exact  and  break  it 
with  alacrity  as  soon  as  the  keeping  of  it 
became  inconvenient.  Therefore  the  readi- 
ness with  which  he  promised  to  see  prac- 
tically nothing  of  the  boy  in  the  future 
sprang  really  from  a  defective  sense  of  the 
value  of  a  promise,  rather  than  from  the 
total  heartlessness  with  which  Lynn  cred- 
ited him.  He  was  really  fond  of  Lionel  — 
in  his  way;  and  fully  intended  to  see  all 
that  he  wished  of  him,  whenever  necessary. 

So  the  child  went  to  school  and  Lynn 
returned  to  Montreal  and  worked  steadily 
for  the  extra  sums  which  were  needed  for 


A   SHORT    REPENTANCE         97 

Lionel's  maintenance.  The  next  few  years 
were  comparatively  restful  and  pleasant 
ones.  The  reports  which  she  received  of 
Lionel  were  not  good,  yet  he  seemed  to  be 
progressing  fairly  well,  and  Lynn,  remem- 
bering her  mother's  dying  words,  tried  not 
to  expect  too  much  in  the  beginning. 
When  Lionel  was  fourteen,  however,  he 
ran  away  and  joined  his  father  in  New 
York. 

Lynn  did  not  even  know  his  whereabouts 
and  had  no  way  of  discovering  them.  The 
boy  did  not  assuage  her  anxiety  by  writing, 
feeling  that  his  hiding-place  might  be  as- 
certained if  he  gave  any  clue  to  it  and  that 
he  would  then  be  compelled  to  return. 
However,  Allardi  wrote  to  Lynn  after  a 
time,  telling  her  that  the  boy  was  with  him 
and  asking  that  she  would  not  withdraw 
her  help  as  Lionel  already  needed  much 
that  he  could  not  give  him. 

Lynn  exhausted  entreaties,  reproofs,  and 
even  threats.  Allardi  was  the  boy's  natural 
guardian  in  the  eyes  of  the  law;  his  will 
was  absolute  and  he  refused  to  send  the 
boy  from  him  unless  well  paid  for  so  doing. 
This  was  out  of  the  question.     Lynn  had 


98  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

already  earned  the  reputation  of  a  miser 
for  the  scantiness  and  plainness  of  the 
wardrobe  which  Mrs.  Thayer  felt  herself 
constantly  obliged  to  supplement.  Nat- 
urally Mrs.  Thayer  could  not  see  why  a 
girl  with  fifty  dollars  a  month  to  spend  on 
herself  alone  —  as  she  supposed  —  should 
lack  for  anything  in  reason. 

Here  the  inconvenience  and  absurdity  of 
the  oath  which  Mrs.  Allardi  had  made 
Lynn  swear  began  to  show  itself  most  un- 
pleasantly. The  truth  was  so  simple,  the 
secrecy  made  the  whole  matter  so  difficult. 
Lynn  had  dreaded  inquiries  anent  the  boy 
when  she  first  returned  after  her  mother's 
death,  but  none  had  been  forthcoming.  Mr. 
Thayer  had  expected  that  Lynn  would  ask 
him  to  have  an  eye  to  the  boy  and  see  that 
the  small  allowance  he  had  promised  to 
make  him  was  fairly  spent;  when  nothing 
was  said  on  the  matter  he  assumed  that 
Lynn  disliked  the  child  as  she  did  the 
father  and  preferred  never  to  think  or 
speak  of  them,  now  that  the  one  link  be- 
tween them  and  her  was  broken.  Mr. 
Thayer  was  glad  to  forget  the  existence 
of  his  sister-in-law's  other  child.     He  had 


A   SHORT    REPENTANCE         99 

never  even  seen  the  father  or  the  son;  he 
had  been  intensely  indignant  at  the  second 
marriage  contracted  while  Clara  was  visit- 
ing friends  in  the  States;  and,  subsequent 
events  having  justified  his  indignation,  he 
had  sedulously  avoided  meeting  any  of  the 
people  concerned.  His  offer  to  adopt  Lynn 
had  been  made  by  letter;  he  had  sent 
money  for  the  journey  when  that  offer  was 
accepted,  and  settled  the  amount  agreed 
upon  his  sister-in-law;  and  had  then  en- 
deavoured to  drive  the  whole  affair  from  his 
mind.  However,  upon  Lynn's  return  from 
New  York,  he  did  make  some  gruff  inqui- 
ries as  to  the  child's  whereabouts;  and,  on 
her  replying  that  the  boy  was  at  a  cheap 
but  highly  respectable  boarding-school  in 
the  country,  he  had,  with  a  feeling  of  relief, 
dismissed  the  whole  matter  from  his  mind, 
thinking  that  "  that  Italian  blackguard " 
had  some  sense  of  decency  after  all. 

There  seemed  little  that  Lynn  could  do, 
now  that  Lionel  had  taken  matters  into  his 
own  hands  and  openly  declared  his  inten- 
tion of  remaining  with  his  father.  Of 
course  the  rational  thing  was  to  break  her 
promise  and  take  her  relatives  into  her  con- 


loo  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

fidence.  Only  the  most  scrupulous  moralist 
could  hold  her  bound  by  an  oath  which  her 
mother,  could  she  have  looked  into  the 
future,  would  have  surely  wished  her  to 
break.  Ah,  if  only  logic  ruled  life,  how 
simple  life  would  be.  Unfortunately  it  does 
not. 

Lynn  had  inherited  from  both  father  and 
mother  an  overstrained  sense  of  honour 
and,  though  she  had  done  her  best  to  re- 
frain from  making  the  unfair  and  ridiculous 
promise,  the  possibility  of  breaking  it  when 
made  never  occurred  to  her. 

The  Roman  Catholic  system  of  confes- 
sion has  its  advantages  after  all.  Had 
Lynn  gone  to  any  confessional  and  asked 
for  permission  to  break  her  oath,  and  abso- 
lution for  the  sin  of  so  doing,  what  sensible 
man,  priest  or  layman,  would  have  refused 
to  sanction  such  a  procedure?  Lynn,  under 
the  circumstances,  had  no  confidant,  no  ad- 
viser, no  one  to  show  her  the  needlessness 
of  her  various  sacrifices. 

Besides,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  Lynn's 
sense  of  honour  was  so  deeply  ingrained 
that  it  could  not,  under  any  conditions, 
have   yielded   to   the   dictates   of   common 


A    SHORT    REPENTANCE       loi 

sense.  She  would  probably  have  done,  in 
any  circumstances,  just  what  she  proceeded 
to  do;  kept  the  foolish  oath  in  its  entirety, 
continued  to  help  the  ungrateful  boy,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  he,  in  defiance  of  her 
expressed  wishes,  continued  to  live  in  New 
York  with  his  father,  and  generally  have 
conducted  herself  as  over-fond  and  irra- 
tional women  do,  under  such  circumstances. 

When  Lionel  was  sixteen,  however,  his 
father  died  of  consumption  in  a  tragic  and 
horrible  manner;  and  Lionel,  temporarily 
sobered  by  the  occurrence,  suddenly  "  turned 
over  a  new  leaf,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and 
wrote  Lynn  to  that  effect,  declaring  his 
intention  of  taking  up  literary  work  and 
"  making  his  name  in  it."  Although  his 
manner  of  supporting  himself  did  not  seem 
very  practicable  to  his  sister,  she  hailed  with 
joy  this  indication  that  her  work  and  care 
had  at  last  borne  fruit. 

And,  for  a  short  time,  Lionel  was  a 
source  of  unmitigated  joy  and  pride  to  her. 
There  are  but  a  few  poets  in  the  world  and 
he  was  one  of  them.  His  work  earned  him 
instant  recognition  among  a  certain  set 
and,  although  his  earnings  were  paltry,  he, 


I02  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

at  all  events,  did  earn  something  and  bade 
fair  to  earn  more.  All  literary  workers 
know  how  frequently  a  certain  amount  of 
fame  may  be  gained  with  very  small  pecuni- 
ary success  to  back  it. 

Then  Lionel  decided  to  live  in  Montreal. 
He  was  ill;  New  York  did  not  agree  with 
him;  he  wanted  new  experiences  and  real- 
ized that  Lynn  could  give  him  one  thing 
that  he  had  never  known  —  the  society  of 
rich  and  fashionable  people;  and,  more  im- 
portant than  all,  he  knew  well  that  he  could 
wheedle  every  penny  of  her  earnings  from 
her,  provided  he  lived  in  the  same  town. 
The  boy  was  a  degenerate,  totally  without 
gentle  feeling  of  any  kind,  his  only  ap- 
proach to  it  being  a  sort  of  sympathetic 
and  artistic  understanding  of  other  people's 
emotions.  His  sister  was,  to  him,  merely 
a  cow  to  be  milked  dry.  He  was,  to  his 
sister,  a  demi-god  to  be  sacrificed  to;  she 
laid  before  him  in  the  dust  the  burnt  ashes 
of  her  heart  and  life  —  and  received  the  fit- 
ting and  inevitable  reward  of  such  folly. 

By  reason  of  the  oath  sworn  by  Lynn 
and  also  because  Lionel  had  won  fame 
under  the  name  of  Leo  Ricossia,  this  was 


A    SHORT    REPENTANCE        103 

the  name  by  which  he  chose  to  be  known 
in  Montreal.  As  Leo  Ricossia  he  was  re- 
ceived with  open  arms.  He  had  secured 
letters  of  introduction  to  certain  influential 
Montrealers  and  soon  contrived  to  be  for- 
mally presented  to  his  sister  at  the  home 
of  one  of  these.  His  literary  fame  had  pre- 
ceded him,  and  this,  in  conjunction  with  his 
extraordinary  beauty,  his  extreme  youth, 
and  the  fact  that  he,  already,  lay  under 
sentence  of  death  made  him,  for  the  time 
being,  "  the  rage."  No  social  gathering 
was  complete  without  him;  all  the  debu- 
tantes cut  out  his  poems,  pasted  them  in 
albums,  and  entreated  his  signature  on  the 
opening  page;  all  the  older  women  of  fash- 
ion petted,  indulged  and  ran  after  him. 

It  is  extraordinary  how  rapidly  and  com- 
pletely a  certain  person  may  become  "  the 
rage  '*  and  still  more  extraordinary  how 
rapidly  and  completely  this  person  may 
sink  out  of  sight  and  be  practically  forgot- 
ten in  the  space  of  a  few  months.  For  about 
a  year  Ricossia's  popularity  was  at  fever 
height;  then  —  murmurs  of  disapprobation, 
shruggings  of  shoulders,  a  few  hints  here, 
a  few  direct  words  of  condemnation  there 


I04         THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

—  and,  by  the  end  of  another  year,  Society 
knew  Ricossia  no  more.  He  had  over- 
stepped the  Hmit  of  indulgence;  much  is 
excused  to  a  young  and  handsome  man 
with  charming  manners  and  lung  disease; 
but  not  everything.  In  Ricossia's  case,  un- 
fortunately, there  was  everything  to  excuse 
and  people  finally  and  positively  refused  to 
excuse  it.  Ricossia,  who  had  tired  very 
quickly  of  comparative  respectability,  ha- 
stened the  climax  with  a  certain  gay  reck- 
lessness, and  abandoned  himself  with  entire 
satisfaction  to  all  that  he  had  vowed  to 
relinquish  when  he  came  to  Montreal.  Ta- 
king up  his  abode  in  the  disreputable  old 
studio  building  before-mentioned,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  follow  very  literally  the  words  of 
the  Episcopal  prayer-book,  doing  every- 
thing that  he  ought  not  to  do,  leaving  un- 
done all  that  he  ought  to  do. 

Now,  it  will  be  supposed,  Lynn's  patience 
failed,  utterly.  Now,  at  last  she  abandoned 
the  wretched  boy  who  was  bound  to  her 
only  by  blood  and  who  had  voluntarily  re- 
linquished every  claim  on  her  regard?  Ah, 
no.  Again  let  us  repeat,  if  only  logic  ruled 
life,  how  simple  life  would  be.     As  logic 


A   SHORT    REPENTANCE       105 

does  not  rule  life,  Lynn  continued  to 
support  her  half-brother,  denying  herself 
everything  that  she  could  go  without,  re- 
fusing all  invitations  that  entailed  expen- 
sive clothes,  immolating  herself  on  the  altar 
of  self-sacrifice  with  most-admired  indis- 
cretion. Nor  was  this  all.  As  it  was 
clearly  impossible  that  the  disgraced  and 
ostracized  Ricossia  should  visit  her  in  the 
respectable  home  of  her  irreproachable  rela- 
tives; as  it  was  equally  impossible  that  she 
should  go  by  daylight  to  the  somewhat  dis- 
reputable quarter  of  the  town  where  he 
lived;  as  everything  within  her  denied  the 
possibility  of  leaving  him  to  die  in  poverty, 
illness  and  loneliness;  for  all  these  reasons 
and  for  fifty  others  equally  excellent,  Lynn 
hit  on  the  brilliant  plan  of  visiting  him  by 
stealth,  Nicodemus-fashion,  of  going  osten- 
sibly to  dine  with  some  friend  or  friends, 
and  of  leaving  early  and  driving  to  the 
Chatham  in  order  to  see  for  herself  whether 
the  worthless  life  was  still  extant  and 
whether  the  cold  heart  craved  anything 
that  she  could  give  it.  A  fool?  Oh  yes, 
a  very  great  and  undoubted  fool. 

Unfortunately  the  vast  mass  of  humanity 


io6  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

is  composed  of  fools,  and  the  people  appar- 
ently free  from  any  trace  of  such  folly  are 
not  just  the  people  whom  we  most  admire 
and  love.  Casabianca,  standing  flame-en- 
circled on  the  sinking  ship;  Joan  of  Arc 
leading  a  handful  of  peasants  against  the 
flower  of  the  English  army;  Charlotte  Cor- 
day  giving  her  life  on  the  guillotine  for  the 
pleasure  of  making  a  martyr  of  an  inhuman 
hound;  all  these  and  all  the  other  divine 
fools  of  history  make  a  curious  appeal  to 
humanity.  Why?  That  is  diflicult  to  an- 
swer. Perhaps  because,  deep  in  our  hearts, 
we  know  ourselves  to  be  fools  and  are  not, 
in  moments  of  depression,  quite  convinced 
that  we  are  even  divine  fools. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  Lynn  Thayer  qualified 
herself,  as  will  be  admitted,  for  a  high  place 
in  the  picture  gallery  of  fools;  risking  her 
reputation,  beggaring  her  life,  breaking  her 
heart,  all  for  the  sake  of  a  boy  who  had 
done  nothing  from  childhood  but  grieve,  tor- 
ment and  disappoint  her.  Ah,  but  he  had 
done  a  little  more  than  this.  He  had  filled 
her  life  with  his  image;  he  had  aflforded 
her  an  object  on  which  to  squander  the 
treasures  of  her  mind  and  heart.    And  what 


A   SHORT    REPENTANCE       107 

more  does  the  average  fool  want,  whether 
she  be  an  historical,  or,  as  in  this  case,  an 
ultra-modern  fool? 

Ricossia  had  hit  on  a  way  by  which  Lynn 
was  enabled  to  supplement  her  teacher's 
salary  and  provide  for  him  more  comfort- 
ably. Struck  by  the  humour  and  style  of 
a  little  sketch  which  she  had  written  for 
his  amusement,  he  made  a  few  alterations 
in  it  and  sent  it  to  an  editor  with  whom  he 
was  personally  acquainted,  under  his  own 
name.  It  was  accepted  and  paid  for;  and, 
from  that  time  on,  Ricossia  was  known  for 
his  pungent  and  witty  society  skits.  Lynn 
was  only  too  grateful  for  the  addition  to 
her  much-strained  purse  and  delighted  that 
her  brother  was  pleased  to  approve  of  her 
work.  Had  it  not  been  for  this  new  method 
of  earning,  she  would  have  found  it  increas- 
ingly difficult  to  account  for  the  way  in 
which  her  money  went,  bringing  her  no 
apparent  return. 

In  her  spare  moments,  therefore,  she 
wrote,  busily,  and,  moreover,  assumed  the 
duty  of  amanuensis  to  her  brother,  who 
seemed  more  and  more  indifferent,  as  his 
health  declined  and  his  energy  waned,  as 


io8         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

to  the  disposal  of  his  brain-wares.  Pro- 
vided he  could  carouse  all  night  and  sleep 
all  day  he  seemed  content;  only  varying 
this  routine  by  complaints  if  Lynn  either 
came  at  inopportune  times  or  failed  to  come 
when  she  might  have  been  of  use. 

He  absolutely  refused  all  medical  aid  and 
scoffed  at  the  idea  of  going  to  a  sanitarium. 
He  knew  that  he  must  die  and  he  wanted 
to  die,  happy  And,  if  Lynn  had  but  known 
it,  this,  under  the  circumstances,  was  about 
the  greatest  kindness  he  could  have  done 
society  in  general  and  his  sister  in  partic- 
ular. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

"  PUNCHINELLO  " 

"He  laughed  ...  as  gaily, 

Dancing,  joking  every  night, 
'  He's  the  maddest,  merriest  fellow,* 

Cried  the  people  with  delight 
Bravo,  bravo !  Punchinello ! 
Bravo,  Punchinello ! " 

—  Old  Song. 

MR.  ZANGWELL,  in  his  clever  "  Se- 
rio-Comic  Governess,"  has  shown 
us  a  young  lady  leading  two  very 
different  lives  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
In  the  day-time  she  is  a  highly  respectable 
and  decorous  governess,  at  night,  a  music- 
hall  artiste.  In  both  lines  she  is  a  success 
Now  this  success  is  probably  owing  to 
the  fact  that  this  particular  young  lady  is 
gratifying  her  curiosity  and  her  desire  to 
lead  a  conventional  existence  at  one  and 
the  same  time.  She  is,  in  short,  doing  that 
which  she  wishes  to  do. 

There  are  many  such  "  serio-comic  gov- 
ernesses "  in  real  life.     Perhaps  you,  who 

109 


no         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

read,  may  be  one;  perhaps,  unknown  to 
you,  the  dear  friend  from  whom  you  have 
no  secrets  and  who,  you  fondly  beHeve,  has 
none  from  you,  may  have  a  personality 
which  you  have  never  even  guessed  at. 

In  the  case  of  our  "  serio-comic  govern- 
ess," however,  we  must  draw  a  distinc- 
tion. Lynn  Thayer  liked  neither  of  her 
lives,  which  clashed  horribly  both  with  one 
another  and  with  her  sense  of  right.  Since 
she  saw  no  way  in  which  she  could  avoid 
it,  however,  she  continued  to  lead  them  to 
the  best  of  her  ability,  sustained,  if  not 
comforted,  by  the  thought  that  one  of  them 
was  bound  to  terminate  with  the  death  of 
the  one  being  whom  she  most  loved. 

We  have  seen  our  "  serio-comic  govern- 
ess "  in  one  role;  now  we  see  her  in  an- 
other. We  have  seen  Punchinello  with  the 
mask  off  and  the  grin  absent;  now  we  see 
him  as  he  appears  daily  in  the  theatre  of 
life. 

Lynn  had  returned  from  the  school 
where  she  taught  and  sat  in  her  aunt's 
sitting-room,  engaged  on  a  shirtwaist  and 
in  conversation.  If  we  listen  we  shall  be 
able  to  form  a  fair  idea  of  the  progress  of 


"  PUNCHINELLO  "  iii 

the  conversation,  if  not  of  that  of  the  shirt- 
waist. Mrs.  Thayer  was  employed  in  em- 
broidering a  collar  and  impressed  the  cas- 
ual observer  as  doing  the  exact  thing  for 
which  Nature  had  fitted  her.  She  was  one 
of  those  pretty,  faded,  querulous  women 
with  worthy  hearts  but  limited  intellects  of 
whom  one  almost  instinctively  speaks  as 
"  poor  thing  " ;  why,  it  is  hard  to  say,  ex- 
cept that  something  in  their  appearance 
calls  forth  the  expression.  No  one  ever 
called  Lynn  Thayer  "  poor  thing,"  nor 
would,  whatever  griefs  or  difficulties  she 
might  labour  under. 

Mrs.  Thayer  was  speaking. 

"  Now,  Lynn,  why  is  he  not  coming  here, 
to-night?" 

"  For  one  thing,  because  I  don't  want 
him;  and,  for  another,  because  he  is  chang- 
ing his  hotel.  You  know  he  is  staying  at 
the  *  Hastings  '  while  his  house  is  in  the 
hands  of  the  painters." 

"  And  he  is  moving  from  the  *  Hastings.' 
Why?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  he  said  it  was  '  tough '  and 
that  he  would  have  to  leave  it.  I  tried  hard 
not  to  compliment  him  upon  the  altruism 


112  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

of  his  action.  Certainly  if  one  thing  more 
than  another  is  calculated  to  '  raise  the 
tone '  of  a  hotel,  it  is  his  leaving  it." 

"Lynn!  you  didn't  tell  him  so?" 
shrieked  her  aunt. 

"  No,"  returned  her  niece,  rather  sorrow- 
fully.   "  I  didn't.    I  wish  I  had." 

''Lynnf' 

"  I  don't  often  neglect  anything  calcu- 
lated to  render  me  unpopular  with  him," 
continued  Miss  Thayer,  composedly,  "  and 
when  I  do  I'm  always  sorry  for  it,  after- 
wards.   You  know  that,  Aunt  Lucy?" 

"  Lynn,  dear,  don't  use  all  those  long 
words,"  adjured  her  aunt,  piteously.  "  They 
do  sound  so  clever.  And  men  do  so  hate 
clever  women.  I  don't  mean  that  you  are 
clever,  you  understand,  dear,"  she  contin- 
ued, apologetically,  "  only  that  you  appear 
so,  sometimes." 

"  I  wonder  whether  Mr.  Lighton  would 
dislike  it  if  he  thought  I  were  clever!" 
queried  Lynn  with  sudden  interest. 

"  I  don't  know.    I  am  afraid  —  " 

"How  I  would  scintillate  if  I  only 
thought  it  would  annoy  him,"  Lynn  said 
in  a  low  voice. 


"  PUNCHINELLO  "  113 

Mrs.  Thayer  started,  indignantly. 

"  I  am  thankful,"  she  reflected  in  loud 
and  severe  accents,  "  that  /  was  never  af- 
flicted with  a  desire  to  make  myself  un- 
pleasant to  estimable  young  men." 

"Estimable!  Aunt  Lucy!" 

"  It  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Thayer,  putting 
two  diminutive  stitches  in  the  collar  which 
she  was  embroidering,  "  it  is  undeniably 
true,  Lynn,  that  the  poor  boy  has  been  a 
little  wild.    But  he  wants  to  settle  down." 

"  If  he  wants  to  settle  down  with  me, 
Aunt  Lucy,  he  can  want." 

"  Lynn,  is  that  the  remark  of  a  lady?  " 

"  It  is ;  and,  furthermore,  it  is  the  remark 
of  a  lady  who  knows  her  own  mind." 

Mrs.  Thayer  raised  a  tiny  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes  and  deposited  two  tinier  tears, 
thereupon.  Long  practice  had  made  her 
an  adept  in  the  gentle  art  of  weeping,  by 
which  art  she  had  succeeded  in  establishing 
an  absolute  monarchy  in  her  own  home. 

"  Oh,  Lynn,  what  a  way  to  talk,"  she 
wept,  gently,  "  when  the  poor  boy  is  so 
fond  of  you  and  has  such  a  good  salary  and 
a  house  of  his  own,  besides.  How  few 
young  men  have  houses  of  their  own  that 


114  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

you  can  walk  right  into  as  soon  as  you 
marry  them!  What  are  you  laughing 
at?  And  anyway  he  is  much  too  good  for 
you  and  besides  Eva  Holt  would  jump  at 
him." 

"  Let  her  jump." 

"  Ah,  Lynn,  you  have  no  natural,  wom- 
anly instincts." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  lacking  in  some." 

"  Such  a  nice  house  as  it  is,  too,"  sighed 
her  aunt,  "  and  all  being  done  over  —  new 
plumbing,  electric  light  and  everything! 
Electric  light  is  so  nice  to  read  by.  How 
fortunate  it  is  that  his  uncle  di —  that  is 
to  say,  how  fortunate  it  is  that  his  uncle 
left  it  to  him." 

"  Yes,  indeed.  There's  something  very 
attractive  about  electric  lights,"  returned 
her  niece,  gravely. 

Mrs.  Thayer  looked  slightly  puzzled  and 
changed  the  subject. 

"  Mr.  Lighton  is  really  in  many  ways  a 
very  nice  young  man,"  she  ventured,  tim- 
idly. "  And  not  a  bit  worse  than  lots  of 
others." 

"Not  a  bit!"  assented  the  other.  Her 
voice  was  still  cheerful  but  her  face  had 


"PUNCHINELLO"  115 

clouded  a  little.  "  The  trouble  is,"  she  went 
on,  rather  absently,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"  the  trouble  is,  he's  worse-looking.  Vice, 
pure  and  simple,  one  might  tolerate;  but 
vice,  in  conjunction  with  a  vermilion 
nose  "  — 

"Lynn!"  interrupted  her  aunt  with 
righteous  indignation.  "  Mr.  Lighton  is 
as  the  Lord  made  him." 

"The  Lord!    Brandy  and  soda!" 

Mrs.  Thayer  had  her  answer  ready  in  her 
pocket;  she  drew  it  out  and  deposited  three 
more  tears  upon  its  snowy  surface.  Lynn 
hesitated;  she  had  a  truly  masculine  aver- 
sion to  tears,  an  aversion  which  had  cost 
her  many  a  domestic  battle. 

"  Please  don't  cry.  Aunt  Lucy,"  she  burst 
forth  at  length.  "  I  don't  see  why  you  are 
so  very  anxious  to  get  me  married.  I 
thought  you  liked  having  me  in  the  house. 
If  you  don't  "  — 

"  Of  course  I  like  having  you,"  said  the 
older  woman,  reproachfully.  "  But  I  must 
confess  that  it  makes  me  feel  dreadfully  to 
think  of  having  you,  always  —  that  is,  I 
mean  that  it  makes  me  feel  dreadfully  to 
see  you   throw  away   such   good   chances. 


ii6         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

For  you  know,  Lynn,  you  are  not  in  the 
least  pretty." 

"  Dear  Aunt  Lucy,  you  have  told  me  that 
so  often,"  returned  her  niece,  patiently. 
"  But  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  see  why 
the  fact  of  my  not  possessing  a  Greek  pro- 
file should  make  me  want  to  marry  Mr. 
Lighton." 

"  That  is  just  where  you  are  so  incom- 
prehensible. And,  besides,  he  has  such  a 
lovely  horse." 

"  His  horse  is  certainly  a  dream.  Un- 
fortunately, though,  it  was  not  his  horse 
who  proposed.  If  I  could  marry  the  horse 
and  lock  the  gentleman  up  in  the  stable,  I'd 
do  it  with  pleasure.  O  dear,  why  will  you 
talk  about  it  and  make  me  say  such  horrid 
things.  The  plain  truth  of  the  matter  is 
that  I  do  not  like  the  man  and  I  hate  talk- 
ing about  the  whole  aflfair.  It  irritates  me, 
someway.     I  hate  to  see  anything  wasted." 

"  Then  why  do  you  "  — 

"Oh,  Aunt  Lucy,  don't  start  it,  again! 
after  all  I've  said." 

"  I  perceive  at  last,"  said  Mrs.  Thayer 
with  dignity,  "  that  I  may  as  well  let  the 
matter  drop." 


"PUNCHINELLO"  117 

"  You  might  have  seen  that  at  first,  if 
you  had  wished  to,"  thought  Lynn. 

"  I  only  hope  you  may  never  regret  this." 

"  I  hope  so,  too.  By  the  way,  I  am  going 
to  drop  in  at  Estelle's  for  tea  at  five.  A 
lot  of  the  girls  are  going  there.  Have  you 
any  message?  " 

"None,  whatever;  but,  as  you  are  going 
there,  I  trust  that  you  will  talk  this  matter 
over  with  her.  You  could  not  have  a  better 
confidante.  Talk  it  over  with  her,  won't 
you?" 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  necessary  to  promise 
that,"  replied  Lynn,  wearily,  "  for  she  is 
quite  certain  to  talk  it  over  with  me,  which 
comes  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end." 

Mrs.  Thayer  compressed  her  lips  and 
continued  to  embroider.  Lynn  departed  to 
make  some  change  in  her  toilet  and,  that 
being  concluded,  left  the  house.  Once  on 
the  street  her  face  changed  and  contracted 
a  little,  making  her  look  curiously  older. 

"There  are  times,"  she  said  slowly,  re- 
garding the  little  terrier  which  gambolled 
joyfully  at  her  side,  "  there  are  times,  Bob, 
when  I  find  the  society  of  the  four-legged 
portion  of  humanity  infinitely  more  con- 


ii8         THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

genial  than  that  of  the  two-legged.  This 
is  one  of  them.  How  I  wish  sometimes 
that  Aunt  Lucy  were  dumb  or  I  deaf! 
How  thankful  I  am  that  you  can't  talk 
reason  with  me  or  advise  me  for  my  good 
or  do  any  other  unpleasant  thing  of  the 
kind,  Bob.  If  they  only  knew  what  they 
were  talking  about !  if  they  only  knew  why 
I  can't  marry  Lighton  or  —  or  anyone 
else "  —  She  broke  off,  abruptly,  biting 
her  lip  as  though  in  pain.  "  What's  the  use 
of  thinking?"  she  went  on,  presently. 
"  I've  got  to  face  Del  and  twenty  other 
women  nearly  as  sharp  in  five  minutes' 
time  and  I  can't  show  my  feelings  here 
in  this  horrible  street,  either.  Oh,  to  get 
away  from  it  all!  —  here,  don't  be  a  fool! 
You  have  about  two  minutes  to  pull  your- 
self together  in,  you  weak,  whining  —  I'll 
put  it  out  of  my  mind,  entirely.  Whom 
has  Del  asked,  I  wonder.  If  it's  one  of 
those  vile  functions  where  you're  wedged 
tightly  between  layers  of  fat,  stupid  women 
who  gabble  inanely  and  continuously  and 
spill  ice-cream  and  coffee  over  your  good 
clothes,  I'll  never  forgive  her.  No,  she  said 
distinctly  that  it  was  just  a  few  of  the  girls 


"  PUNCHINELLO  "  119 

and  she  always  tells  the  truth  to  me,  if  she 
doesn't  to  anyone  else.  Oh,  Del,  Del!  I 
wonder  if  you  are  the  right  person  to  go 
by.  I  wonder  what  you  would  say  if  I  were 
to  tell  you  of  all  this  miserable  coil  of  de- 
ception and  misery.  Of  course  I  know 
what  you  would  say;  you  would  say  that 
I  was  a  fool  and  so  I  am;  that  wouldn't 
help  matters,  much.  What  could  you,  or 
anyone  suggest?  Nothing,  nothing  that 
would  be  of  any  use;  anyway,  if  I  were 
dying  for  advice,  I  am  not  free  to  obtain 
it.  If  I  had  an  unfailing  fund  of  common 
sense  and  a  heart  of  stone  what  would  I 
do,  I  wonder?  God  knows.  Being  myself 
I'll  do  what  I'm  doing  —  and  God  grant  it 
can't  last  forever."  She  set  her  lips  firmly 
and  walked  along  until  she  reached  Pine 
Avenue. 

Pine  Avenue  lies  at  the  foot  of  Mount 
Royal  and,  in  fact,  is  built  upon  its  slope. 
It  is  a  broad,  fine  street  and  some  of  the 
handsomest  residences  in  Montreal  are  sit- 
uated upon,  or,  rather,  directly  above  it. 
At  all  seasons  of  the  year  it  is  largely  fre- 
quented and,  in  winter,  is  a  favourite  haunt 
of  snowshoers  and  "  skiers."    At  the  pres- 


I20         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

ent  hour,  however,  it  was  practically  de- 
serted; and  Lynn  drew  a  long  breath  of 
relief  as,  leaving  the  crowded  city  streets 
behind,  she  sought  its  solitude.  For  some 
little  time  she  walked  on  in  silence. 

The  golden  January  sun  turned  Mount 
Royal  into  a  mass  of  shining  marble,  flecked 
with  skeleton-like  maples  and  crowned  with 
dark  green  pines.  Beyond  —  behind  its 
towering  whiteness  —  lay  the  dead  of  Mon- 
treal. Lynn  winced  at  the  thought  of  them 
and  fiercely  refused  to  let  her  thought  dwell 
on  their  impenetrable  peace. 

"  I'm  going  to  an  At  Home,  Bob,"  she 
said,  half-aloud,  trying  to  laugh.  "  There 
will  be  about  twenty  other  women  there  — 
and,  in  all  probability,  half  of  them  are 
wearing  veils  over  their  faces  like  the  min- 
ister in  Hawthorne's  story.  '  I  look  around 
me  and  lo!  on  every  visage  a  black  veil.' 
Only  people  don't  go  in  for  black  veils  un- 
less they're  cowards;  they  go  in  for  scarlet 
and  gold,  which  makes  a  far  better  disguise 
and  renders  life  more  cheerful.  What's  the 
use  of  making  a  fuss?  Anyway,  whatever 
happens,  whatever  nasty  knocks  Fate  may 
hand  me,  there  is  one  thing  she  can't  do 


"  PUNCHINELLO  "  121 

—  she  can't  make  me  whine."  She  threw 
her  head  back  and  laughed;  then  called  the 
dog  to  her  side  and  smiled  as  he  licked  her 
gloved  hand. 

"  Del  doesn't  like  you,  old  boy,"  she  said, 
fondly.  "  But  I'll  hide  you,  somewhere, 
and  I  won't  stay  any  longer  than  I  can 
help.  Ah!  there's  the  house,  already.  It's 
just  as  well.  I  don't  feel  like  being  alone, 
to-day,  more  than  I  can  help.  I  wonder 
why  it  is  that  things  seem  so  much  worse 
at  some  times  than  they  do  at  others.'* 


CHAPTER    IX 

"JUST  A   FEW   OF  THE  GIRLS" 

" '  I  must  be  my  own  Mamma,'  said  Becky." 

—  Thackeray. 

"  She  was  clever,  witty,  brilliant  and  sparkling  beyond  most 
of  her  kind  but  possessed  of  many  devils  of  malice  and  mis- 
chievousness.  She  could  be  nice,  though,  even  to  her  own 
sex.    But  that  is  another  story."  —  Kipling. 

MRS.  HADWELL'S  home,  whither 
her  friend,  Miss  Thayer,  was 
bound,  contrived  to  be  both  home- 
like and  imposing.  Situated  on  a  slope  of 
the  "  mountain,"  as  all  loyal  Montrealers 
call  Mount  Royal,  it  commanded  an  unsur- 
passed view  of  the  city  and  harbour  and 
was  surrounded  by  a  picturesque  garden, 
unspoilt  by  overcultivation.  In  summer  it 
assumed  an  appearance  of  fairy-like  charm: 
and  even  when,  as  now,  devoid  of  verdant 
ornament  and  encompassed  only  by  the 
sighing  branches  of  bare  trees,  it  had  an 
appearance  of  creature  comfort,  oddly  at 

122 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     123 

variance  with  the  bleak,  snow-crowned  hills 
that  rose  behind  it.  Mount  Royal,  the 
pride  of  every  Montrealer,  boasts  many  an- 
other such  home;  but  few  combine  dignity 
and  cosiness  in  the  measure  which  Mrs. 
Hadwell's  did. 

"  Del's  house  is  really  awfully  like  her 
in  many  ways,"  Lynn  Thayer  reflected  as 
she  rang  the  bell.  "  It  is  so  expensive  and 
in  such  good  taste  and  so  comfortable  and 
so  cold  —  is  Mrs.  Hadwell  in,  Ella?  Yes, 
I  know  she  is,  but  see  here!  can  you  smug- 
gle Bob  somewhere  where  he  won't  be  in 
the  way  of  the  girls  ?  You  know  Mrs.  Had- 
well doesn't  like  dogs." 

She  divested  herself  of  some  of  her  wraps 
and  crossed  the  hall.  The  perfume  of  roses 
pervaded  the  air  and  the  soft  strain  of 
violins  was  faintly  heard  beneath  the  hub- 
bub of  voices  as  she  made  her  way  toward 
the  large  old-fashioned  drawing-room 
whence  the  sounds  of  festivity  proceeded. 
This  room,  hung  with  crimson  velvet  and 
panelled  in  dark  oak,  was  almost  sumptu- 
ous in  its  comfort.  Beautifully  carved 
Turkish  lamps  hung  from  the  ceiling:  a 
splendid  wood  fire  burned  on  the  hearth: 


124  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

great  vases  of  dark  red  roses  and  carnations 
were  disposed  wherever  opportunity  of- 
fered: and,  at  the  further  end  of  the  room, 
one  caught  a  delicious  glimpse  of  cool  green 
ferns  and  various-coloured  blooms.  The 
room  was  filled  with  daintily  dressed  girls 
and  young  women:  and  behind  a  super- 
latively dainty  tea  table  sat  the  hostess  who 
hastily  pushed  aside  a  cream  jug  and 
rushed  in  the  direction  of  her  latest  guest. 

"  Help  3'-ourselves,  girls,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  want  to  speak  to  Lynn.  Why  are  you 
so  late,  child?  and  where  have  you  been, 
lately?    I  haven't  seen  you  for  an  age." 

"  Which,  being  interpreted,  means  four 
days,"  said  Lynn,  laughing  and  returning 
her  hostess'  kiss.  "  How  lovely  the  rooms 
look,  Del!  and  what  a  sweet  frock  that  is! 
I  do  like  you  in  mauve." 

"  I  think  it  is  rather  successful,"  said 
Mrs.  Hadwell,  contentedly:  and  both 
women  laughed.  In  their  girlhood  days 
they  had  entered  into  a  compact  which 
had  ever  since  been  observed  faithfully; 
namely,  to  tell  no  useless  lies  to  one  another. 
"  Only  don't  let  us  forget  to  tell  them  to 
other  people,  Lynn,"  Mrs.  Hadwell  had  re- 


"A   FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     125 

marked,  solemnly.  "  Don't  let  it  get  us 
into  bad  habits."  It  had  never  got  her  into 
bad  habits:  she  had  lied  her  way  success- 
fully into  public  esteem,  riches  and  an  old 
man's  heart;  and,  even  on  reaching  the 
giddy  pinnacle  of  social  success  where  rude- 
ness is  frequently  condoned,  she  had  faith- 
fully followed  the  policy  of  telling  the  truth 
only  to  her  one  intimate  friend,  Lynn 
Thayer. 

"  Edie,  do  pour  Lynn  some  tea,"  she  cried, 
now,  turning  to  a  pretty  brown-eyed  girl 
who  hovered  near,  watching  her  adoringly. 
"  And  put  piles  and  piles  of  cream  in  it  and 
five  lumps  or  so  of  sugar  —  that's  the  way 
she  likes  it,  the  incomprehensible  creature! 
.  .  .  Another  of  those  sickening  debu- 
tantes," she  observed  in  a  confidential  un- 
dertone, turning  to  Lynn  and  gently  pro- 
pelling her  in  the  direction  of  a  couch, 
"simply  worships  me,  you  know!  follows 
me  around  like  a  dog  and  —  that's  right, 
dear!  how  sweet  of  you  to  save  me  the 
trouble!  now  get  her  an  Italian  cream  and 
a  nice  cake,  will  you?  like  an  angel!  —  I 
don't  know  what  I  shall  do  if  it  keeps  up: 
you  know  I  can't  bear  bread  and  butter 


126         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

misses  and  she  actually  asked  me  for  a  lock 
of  my  hair  the  other  day.  I  felt  like  telling 
her  that  I  paid  eighty  dollars  for  my  switch 
in  New  York  and  that  my  own  hair  was 
too  precious  to  —  oh,  thank  you,  dear! 
Lynn,  this  is  the  sweetest  girl;  she  saves 
me  all  sorts  of  trouble  and  her  name  is  Miss 
Roland;  Edie,  this  is  my  friend.  Miss 
Thayer,  of  whom  you  have  often  heard  me 
speak  —  oh,  dear!  there  are  all  the  girls 
coming  up  to  speak  to  you,  Lynn,  and  any- 
way I  ought  to  go  and  pour  out  some  more 
tea.  When  you  have  done  the  polite,  do 
come  and  keep  me  company  at  the  tea- 
table." 

"  Little  Mrs.  Hadwell,"  as  her  friends 
usually  called  her,  fled,  casting  a  bewitch- 
ing smile  at  the  group  of  girls  who  were 
clustering  about  Lynn.  Estelle  Hadwell's 
teeth  were  her  strong  point,  a  fact  which 
she  never,  for  an  instant,  lost  sight  of.  She 
had  no  complexion  worth  terming  such,  her 
features  were  irregular  and  her  figure  de- 
cidedly angular.  Yet  she  contrived  to  be 
considered  a  beauty,  as  any  woman  can  who 
has  time  and  money  to  devote  to  her  ap- 
pearance. 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     127 

Lynn  watched  her  curiously  as  she  set- 
tled herself  at  the  tea-table  with  a  coquet- 
tish little  flirt  of  her  silken  skirts,  and  mar- 
velled anew  at  the  unconscious  dramatic 
instinct  which  enabled  this  tiny  creature  to 
play  the  role  of  a  beauty  with  such  unfail- 
ing success.  As  "  Little  Mrs.  Hadwell  "  sat 
pouring  the  tea  with  one  pretty  arm  grace- 
fully raised,  she  was  a  vision  for  an  artist. 
Her  mauve  gown  fell  about  her  petite  form 
in  folds  that  were  almost  statuesque  in 
their  grace:  her  beautiful  hair  —  which 
looked  just  as  beautiful  as  though  it  had 
not  grown  on  an  Irish  housemaid's  head 
—  was  arranged  with  such  taste  as  to  make 
her  small  head  a  thing  of  beauty:  her  really 
pretty  neck  and  arms  were  set  oflf  by  a 
fichu  and  falling  cuffs  of  rich  yellow  lace. 
A  cluster  of  violets  was  carelessly  tucked 
in  the  front  of  her  fichu:  and  a  long  chain 
of  amethysts  outlined  her  slender  waist  — 
which  had  hardly  been  so  slender,  had  it 
not  been  for  the  skill  and  strength  of  her 
French  maid.  Altogether,  as  she  sat  there, 
Lynn  recognized  for  the  fiftieth  time  — 
and  with  precisely  the  same  sense  of  won- 
der —  that,  in  spite  of  Estelle's  entire  lack 


128  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

of  beauty,  she  was  the  daintiest  and  most 
fascinating  thing,  imaginable. 

Among  the  girls  who  surrounded  Lynn 
were  several  whose  beauty  was  sufficiently 
apparent  to  make  them  noticeable,  any- 
where. Edith  Roland,  the  adoring  debu- 
tante, had  big,  brown  eyes,  a  pretty  colour 
and  a  figure  whose  slenderness  and  grace 
owed  nothing  to  artificial  aid;  yet,  beside 
her  diminutive  hostess  she  sank  into  insig- 
nificance. Erma  Reed  was  a  beautiful  girl, 
tall,  splendidly  proportioned  with  the  fea- 
tures of  a  Greek  statue  and  the  air  of  a 
grand  dame;  but,  after  the  first  admiration 
which  her  almost  flawless  pulchritude  pro- 
voked, one's  eyes  wandered  instinctively  to 
the  sinuous  figure  and  piquante,  appealing 
face  of  Mrs.  Hadwell.  "  Magnetism  —  that 
is  the  only  word  for  it,  I  suppose,"  thought 
Lynn.  "  Yet  she  didn't  always  have  it  as 
she  has  it  now.  Can  that  sort  of  thing  be 
cultivated,  I  wonder?" 

"  Lynn,  we  never  see  you,  now,"  declared 
Joan  Cadding,  one  of  her  friends.  "  What's 
the  reason?  " 

"  Old  age,  laziness  and  lots  to  do.  At 
twenty-eight    one    can't    be    always    gad- 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     129 

ding.  Besides,  a  teacher  must  keep  early- 
hours." 

"  Oh,  aged  one,  it  is  not  so  many  years 
since  a  certain  teacher  was  out  every  night 
in  the  week  until  one  or  two  o'clock  and 
absolutely  refused  even  to  lie  down  for  half 
an  hour  when  she  left  school  at  three.  Mrs. 
Thayer  used  to  say  to  mother,  '  Really, 
Lynn  must  have  the  constitution  of  a  horse; 
she  comes  home  from  school,  skates  for  an 
hour,  rushes  into  calling  costume  and  drops 
into  a  dozen  things  before  dinner:  then, 
as  soon  as  that  is  over,  prepares  for  a  dance 
or  a  tobogganing  party.' " 

"  As  you  say,  I  was  a  few  years  younger, 
Joan." 

"  But  why  have  you  given  everything  up 
so?  You  can't  complain  of  being  shelved. 
Why,  at  the  only  dance  where  I've  met  you 
this  winter  your  card  was  filled  to  over- 
flowing before  you  had  been  in  the  room 
five  minutes.  You  certainly  can't  worry 
about  lack  of  attention." 

"  No,  I  have  no  beauty  to  fade  and  no 
youthful  fascinations  to  take  wing,  so  the 
people  who  liked  me  ten  years  ago  are  just 
as  apt  to  like  me,  now." 


I30  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Then  why  do  you  slip  out  of  things 
so?    Even  Del  says  she  never  sees  you." 

"  Del  means  that  I  don't  live  here  as  I 
used  to.  I  see  her  three  or  four  times  a 
week:  any  one  but  Del  would  be  sick  of 
me.  But,  seriously,  girls,  this  idea  of  com- 
bining public  school  teacher  and  society  girl 
isn't  the  best  in  the  world.  As  far  as  I 
know,  I  am  the  only  woman  who  has  ever 
done  it  successfully  for  years  and  I'm  get- 
ting tired  of  it.  And  that  reminds  me! 
Do  you  want  to  hear  a  good  story?  I  went 
to  a  man-tea  at  Mrs.  Dean-Everill's  the 
other  day  —  you  see  I'm  not  altogether  a 
hermit  yet  —  and  I  met  a  Mrs.  Howden 
there  —  a  very  common  woman  with 
money.  No  one  else  wanted  to  talk  to  her 
and  she  seemed  a  good-natured  soul  and 
anxious  to  be  afifable,  so  I  sacrificed  myself 
as  usual.  She  simply  beamed  on  me  —  till, 
in  the  course  of  conversation,  it  transpired 
that  I  taught  from  nine  to  three  five  days 
out  of  the  seven.  Then  she  froze:  suddenly 
and  completely  did  she  freeze:  and  took  the 
earliest  opportunity  of  sidling  away  from 
my  contaminating  presence.  A  little  later 
on  I  was  talking  to  some  of  the  other  peo- 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     131 

pie  when  Dick  Ashe,  who  has  just  returned 
from  Europe,  you  know,  rushed  up  to  me 
and  said  in  his  usual  boisterous  way,  '  Oh, 
Miss  Thayer,  you  should  see  the  lovely  pin 
that  your  cousin.  Lord  Haviland,  has  en- 
trusted to  me  for  you.'  I  caught  sight  of 
the  woman's  face;  she  looked  like  a  devo- 
tee who  had  unwittingly  slapped  a  seraph. 
I  felt  so  sorry  for  her  that  I  hastened  to 
murmur,  '  Oh,  Harry's  only  my  third 
cousin,  you  know!'  but  even  that  didn't 
seem  to  wipe  the  tortured  look  from  her 
fat  face.  Think  what  it  must  be  to  a  social 
climber  to  have  snubbed  an  earl's  third 
cousin." 

In  the  burst  of  laughter  and  talk  which 
followed  this,  only  Mrs.  Hadwell  noticed 
that  Lynn  had  made  a  definite  effort  to  turn 
the  course  of  conversation  from  discussion 
of  herself. 

"  Well,"  said  Agatha  Ladilaw  in  her 
flute-like  voice,  "  I  don't  see  what  is  amus- 
ing you  all  so.  It  couldn't  have  been  very 
pleasant  for  Mrs.  What's-her-name  to  think 
that  she  had  been  rude  to  an  earl's  third 
cousin:  and,  on  the  other  hand,  if  Lynn 
were    an    ordinary    teacher    you    couldn't 


132  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

expect  her  to  be  treated  in  the  same 
way." 

"Why  not?"  asked  some  one.  Lynn 
merely  laughed  and  looked  at  the  first 
speaker  with  covert  yet  kindly  mirth. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  laugh,"  said  Aga- 
tha, with  soft  stubbornness. 

"  Why,  you  see,  Agatha,"  said  Lynn, 
looking  at  her  thoughtfully,  "  this  Mrs. 
Howden  liked  me  till  she  found  I  was  a 
teacher.  Then  she  couldn't  endure  my  so- 
ciety till  it  transpired  that  I  was  related 
to  an  earl.    Then  she  loved  me  once  more." 

"And  why  shouldn't  she?"  asked  Aga- 
tha, lifting  her  lovely  lashes.  "  Earls  are 
not  so  common." 

"  Not  so  common  as  snobs,  no.  Still  hav- 
ing an  earl  for  a  cousin  is  no  reason  why 
people  should  like  one." 

"  But  you  see,  Lynn,  it  is  a  reason.  You 
say,  yourself,  that  she  liked  you  as  soon  as 
she  found  it  out." 

Lynn  abandoned  argument. 

"  She  liked  me  in  the  first  place,  too," 
she  said,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  but  then  she  didn't  know  you  were 
a  teacher,"  Agatha  explained,  very  sensibly. 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     133 

"  She  liked  me  until  I  was  found  out,  in 
other  words." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Agatha,  pleased  to  find 
that  her  logic  had  penetrated.  "  It  often 
happens  so.  Look  at  that  young  Italian 
with  the  lovely  eyes  who  wrote  the  mag- 
nificent poetry  that  you  weren't  allowed  to 
read!  and  had  to  smuggle  into  the  dormi- 
tory at  night  after  the  lights  were  out! 
Now  everybody  raved  about  him  until  they 
found  that  he  took  opium  and  drank." 

"And  then  they  promptly  dropped  him: 
just  as  this  Mrs.  Howden  did  Lynn,  when 
she  found  that  she  taught.  It's  an  exactly 
parallel  case,"  agreed  Mrs.  Hadwell,  look- 
ing straight  at  Lynn  with  a  perfectly  inno- 
cent face  and  inwardly  wondering  how  her 
friend  could  preserve  such  a  stony  impene- 
trability of  countenance. 

"  Certainly  it  is,"  said  Agatha,  trium- 
phantly, "  except  that  of  course  it's  wicked 
to  drink  and  it's  quite  respectable  to  teach. 
But  it  comes  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end." 

"  So  many  things  do,"  said  Lynn  with  a 
little  laugh.  "  Still,  Agatha,  it's  not  neces- 
sarily wickedness  that  makes  people  drink. 
Some  people  drink  in  the  same  way  that 


134         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

they  breathe  —  because  to  stop  would  be 
to  die  or  to  go  mad." 

"  What  unpleasant  people,"  said  Agatha, 
virtuously.  "  I'm  glad  I'm  not  like  that. 
Still,  even  if  I  were  I'm  sure  that  I  could 
stop  it  —  I  can't  understand  people  being 
so  weak.  And,  speaking  of  that  Ricossia 
—  whatever  became  of  him?  He  was  so 
wicked  and  he  did  look  so  nice  in  evening 
clothes.  I  used  to  be  awfully  gone  on  him 
and  so  were  all  the  girls  in  the  Sixth.  It 
wasn't  because  he  was  wicked,  you  know," 
she  added  hastily. 

"No,  indeed;  the  wickedness  of  Beelze- 
bub would  have  availed  him  nothing  if  he 
hadn't  also  been  decorative  in  evening 
clothes.  Agatha,  don't  you  want  this  lit- 
tle chocolate  cake  with  the  nut  in  the 
top?" 

Agatha  did:  and  she  also  wanted  some 
information  on  the  subject  of  Ricossia. 

"  Why  are  you  so  determined  not  to  talk 
about  him?  He  was  your  protege  from  the 
start.  You  took  him  up  —  you  and  Mr. 
Amherst  —  I  don't  believe  he  would  ever 
have  been  so  popular  and  run  after  if  you 
hadn't  started  it." 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     135 

"Yes,  what  has  become  of  that  boy?" 
queried  Mrs.  Hadwell  with  sudden  interest. 
**  Of  course  he  has  gone  to  the  dogs,  we  all 
know  that:  but  what  particular  dogs  and 
where?" 

"  I  am  not  his  keeper,"  answered  Lynn, 
lightly.  "  Do  you  know  that  it's  about  time 
Heft,  Del?" 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  Mrs.  Hadwell,  starting 
up.  "  You  mustn't.  Why,  you  don't  even 
know  why  I  asked  you  to  come  here,  this 
afternoon:  you  simply  must  stay  long 
enough  to  hear  that." 

"  Well,  I'll  stay  five  minutes  "  — 

"  Very  well,  five  minutes !  "  returned  Mrs. 
Hadwell,  who  knew  quite  well  how  long  a 
period  of  time  five  minutes  can  cover. 
"  Now,  girls,  attend !  You  knew  that  Hen- 
ry's brother  Carl  settled  in  the  States  and 
that  he  has  a  grown-up  family.  Well,  the 
third  child  is  twins  —  I  mean  the  third  chil- 
dren are  twins  —  well,  never  mind!  what's 
the  use  of  explaining  when  you  all  know 
what  I  mean,  anyway.  The  point  is  that 
I've  invited  them  one  and  all  to  visit  me, 
every  year:  but  they've  consistently  re- 
fused because  the  brother  is  indignant  at 


136  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Henry's  marrying  a  young  wife,  just  when 
they  had  quite  come  to  count  on  getting 
his  money.  These  twins,  however,  seem  to 
have  a  mind  between  them  —  they're  only 
nineteen,  too,  I  believe  —  very  young  to 
have  a  mind,  even  if  it  is  only  half  a  one 
—  and  they  have  written  with  gusto,  ac- 
cepting my  invitation  and  telling  me  that 
they're  dying  to  see  something  of  the  Cana- 
dian sports.  Now,  as  you  know,  I've  no 
taste  for  sports  and  I  thought  some  of  you 
might  help  me  out.  They  are  only  going 
to  be  here  for  a  week  or  so,  as  they  both 
go  to  college,  and  I  want  to  give  them  what 
our  American  friends  call  '  a  real  good 
time.'  I  have  thought  of  several  of  the 
ordinary  things  —  a  tea  for  the  girls  and 
a  bridge  the  night  after  they  arrive:  and  a 
little  later  on,  I  am  going  to  give  a  fancy 
dress  ball  —  yes,  consider  yourselves  all  in- 
vited—  but  I  thought  it  would  be  nice  if 
I  got  a  few  of  you  girls  together  and  or- 
ganized some  parties  for  tobogganing  and 
ice-boating  and  so  on." 

"  Don't  forget  the  Conquerors-Wales 
hockey  match." 

"  No,  detestable  thing !    they'll  want  to 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     137 

see  that,  I  suppose.  I  can't  stand  hockey, 
Lynn,  you're  not  going?  " 

"  I  must.     It's  getting  very  late." 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  cried  Mrs.  Hadwell, 
piteously:  and  at  that  moment,  the  clang 
of  the  doorbell,  followed  by  the  advent  of 
a  fresh  visitor,  seemed  to  give  the  lie  to 
Miss  Thayer's  assertion. 

"  Mrs.  Langham-Greene !  Lynn,  forgive 
me.  I  swear  I  didn't  ask  her,"  murmured 
the  hostess:   then  glided  forward  eagerly. 

"  So  glad  to  see  you.  What  good  genius 
prompted  you  to  drop  in  this  particular 
afternoon?  All  the  girls  have  done  the 
same.  (And  if  that  doesn't  pacify  her,"  re- 
flected the  ingenuous  hostess,  "  nothing 
will.") 

The  newcomer  laughed,  a  pretty,  soft, 
disagreeable  laugh,  and  glanced  about  her. 

"  So  I  see,"  she  rejoined,  smoothly.  "  We 
old  married  women  will  have  to  entertain 
one  another.  These  young  girls,"  her 
glance  w^andered  from  Lynn  Thayer  to  two 
or  three  others  and  she  smiled  thought- 
fully, "  these  young  girls  have  their  own 
topics  of  conversation." 

"Now  that,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell  to  her- 


138  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

self  with  unwilling  admiration,  "  is  neat, 
distinctly  neat.  Insult  to  me,  insult  to  my 
best  friend  and  insult  to  half  a  dozen  of 
my  guests  and  all  in  one  short  breath. 
Lynn,  you're  not  going?  "  she  added,  aloud. 

"  I  am  indeed.  Bob  will  be  wondering 
what's  become  of  me." 

"Bob  I      You  didn't  bring  him  here?  " 

"  I  did,  Del.  You  know  I'm  away  all 
day  and  Aunt  Lucy  never  takes  him  out. 
Poor  little  fellow!  it's  pathetic,  the  way  he 
greets  me  when  I  get  home." 

"  Miss  Thayer  is  such  an  attractive  per- 
son, isn't  she?"  murmured  Mrs.  Langham- 
Greene  with  a  peculiar  gleam  in  her  lazy 
cat-like  eyes.  "  She  has  such  a  fascination 
—  for  dogs  and  cats." 

"  You,  Mrs.  Langham-Greene,"  returned 
Lynn  with  equal  sweetness,  "  can  have  no 
idea  how  nice  it  is  to  be  able  to  fascinate 
something." 

With  that,  she  left.  Mrs.  Hadwell  was 
delighted  with  the  Parthian  shot  and  indig- 
nant at  Mrs.  Langham-Greene's  impudence 
in  classing  herself  with  her  hostess  under 
the  title  of  "  old  married  women."  She 
therefore  launched  forth  into  a  eulogy  of 


"A    FEW    OF    THE    GIRLS"     139 

her  absent  friend  which,  judging  from  ap- 
pearances, went  far  to  spoil  the  elegant 
widow's  enjoyment  of  her  cup  of  tea. 

"  Lynn  is  such  a  favourite  with  men, 
too,"  she  concluded. 

"  Really,"  rejoined  the  green-eyed  siren, 
carelessly.  "  But  girls  who  teach  do  age 
so  rapidly,  don't  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Had- 
well?  and  they  are  apt  to  become  soured 
and  to  mistake  rudeness  for  repartee." 

"  A  mistake  that  is  frequently  made," 
said  Mrs.  Hadwell,  inwardly  furious. 
"  But,  when  one  has  such  a  clever  tongue 
as  Lynn,  don't  you  think  one  is  apt  to  take 
advantage  of  duller  people  than  one's  self?  " 
Agatha  broke  in. 

"  Isn't  it  funny,  Mrs.  Hadwell,  how  Lynn 
never  will  talk  about  Mr.  Ricossia?  She 
used  to  like  him  so  much.  And  I  am  sure 
she  must  know  what  has  become  of  him." 

"  Dreadful  creature !  "  purred  Mrs.  Lang- 
ham-Greene,  arching  her  delicate  eyebrows. 
"  Your  friend  wasn't  really  infatuated  with 
him,  was  she,  Mrs.  Hadwell?  People  do 
talk  so." 

"Don't  they?"  assented  Mrs.  Hadwell, 
looking  grieved.    "  I  daresay  even  you  and 


I40         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

I  don't  escape.  Poor  Lynn  presumed  on 
her  twenty-eight  years  and  her  plain  face 
to  take  a  sisterly  interest  in  an  eccentric 
genius,  little  more  than  a  child  in  years ;  and 
people  immediately  assume  that  she  must 
be  in  love  with  him.  So  absurd!  As  if  a 
girl  who  —  oh,  they  are  all  going!  what  a 
shame!  How  I  wish  you  had  dropped  in  a 
little  sooner,  Mrs.  Langham-Greene.  WeVe 
had  a  delightful  chat  but  such  a.  short  one!  " 


CHAPTER   X 

"A  FIN  -  DE  -  SIECLE   PAIR" 

"  I  have  seen  Hayes  argue  with  a  tough  horse  —  I  have 
seen  a  tonga  driver  coerce  a  stubborn  pony  —  I  have  seen  a 
riotous  setter  broken  to  gun  by  a  hard  keeper  —  but  the 
breaking-in  of  Pluffles  .  .  .  was  beyond  all  these." 

—  Kipling. 

"  I  '\  UT,  Henry,  you  should  be  glad  to 
r^  see  your  brother's  children." 
-^-^^       "  I   don't   see   why.     A   pair   of 

young   ragamuffins   who'll   pull   the   house 

about  my  ears." 

"  My  dear  Henry !    They^re  nineteen." 
"  Worse  and  worse !     The  boy  will  be 

certain  to  fall  in  love  with  you." 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  asked  Mrs.  Hadwell, 

eagerly. 

"  I   think  it  won't  be  your   fault  if  he 

doesn't,"  responded  her  husband  with  acer- 
bity. 

"  Well,  at  all  events  the  girl  won't  fall  in 

love  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell  with  a 

twinkle  in  her  eye. 

I4« 


142  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Her  spouse  grunted  something  unintelli- 
gible. 

"  Not  if  she  sees  you  with  that  expres- 
sion on  your  face,"  went  on  Mrs.  Hadwell, 
rather  sadly.  "  It  always  seems  so  strange 
to  me  that  a  man  of  your  experience  and 
charm  —  a  finished  man  of  the  world,  in 
other  words  —  should  give  way  to  these 
useless  moods." 

Mr.  Hadwell's  brow  slightly  cleared  in 
spite  of  his  efforts  to  hide  the  fact. 

"  If  I  had  seen  when  I  first  met  you," 
went  on  Mrs.  Hadwell  in  chastened  accents, 
"  that,  beneath  the  mask  of  courtly  polite- 
ness and  delicate  flattery,  you  concealed  the 
nature  of  a  gloomy  tyrant  " 

"Da — I  mean,  confound  it  all!"  said 
Mr.  Hadwell,  much  affected,  "  what  on 
earth  do  you  want,  Estelle?  " 

**  Why,  I'm  afraid  I  don't  quite  under- 
stand you,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell,  raising  her 
pretty  eyebrows  in  pained  surprise. 

"  My  dear  little  girl,  you  know  I  am  not 
a  tyrant,"  said  Mr.  Hadwell,  miserable  at 
the  thought  of  being  so  misunderstood,  yet, 
at  the  same  time,  secretly  delighted  at  the 
reference  to  his  "  courtly  politeness."     His 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     143 

delight  was  natural  when  one  considers  the 
fact  that,  at  no  time  of  his  life,  had  his  man- 
ners surpassed  those  of  an  average  groom. 

"  No  —  perhaps  not,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell, 
softly.  "  Yet,  Henry,  there  are  times  when 
—  when  —  " 

**  When  what,  darling?"  inquired  Mr. 
Hadwell,  abjectly. 

"When,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell  with  sor- 
rowful dignity,  "  when,  Henry,  I  am  actu- 
ally afraid  to  ask  you  for  the  little  extra 
money  which  will  provide  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  your  brother's  children." 

"Must  they  be  so  much  entertained?" 
asked  Mr.  Hadwell,  humbly  yet  uneasily. 
He  was  a  kind  old  man,  but  the  prospect 
of  parting  with  a  dollar  never  failed  to 
cause  him  acute  agony. 

"  They  need  not  be  entertained,"  re- 
sponded Mrs.  Hadwell  with  feeling. 
"  Those  unfortunate  children  may  come 
here  and  stay  with  us  three  weeks  and 
return  to  Ohio  to  tell  their  father  and 
mother  that  the  woman  who  has  deprived 
them  of  their  uncle's  fortune,  grudges  them 
a  ball  or  a  "  —  She  wept :  and  Mr.  Had- 
well writhed  in  agony.     There  were  only 


144         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

two  things  in  life  that  he  really  loved: 
his  big  income  and  his  small  wife.  Of  the 
two,  he  really  preferred  his  wife:  and  after 
a  few  moments'  silent  struggle,  he  suc- 
cumbed to  her  tears  and  her  fascinations 
and  drew  out  his  cheque  book. 

"How  much?"  he  inquired,  hardily. 

Little  Mrs.  Hadwell  dried  her  eyes. 

"How  much?"  she  inquired,  innocently. 
"  How  mu —  oh,  Henry !  were  you  thinking 
of  giving  me  some  money?" 

Mr.  Hadwell  regarded  her  with  perplex- 
ity. 

"Isn't  that  what  you  wanted?"  he  in- 
quired looking  puzzled. 

Mrs.  Hadwell  buried  her  eighty-dollar 
head  in  her  pretty  hands. 

"  I  wanted  you  to  show  some  interest  in 
these  children  —  your  own  brother's  chil- 
dren !  "  she  wept.  "  And  you  —  offer  —  me 
—  money! " 

Mr.  Hadwell  groaned,  feeling  that  he 
was  a  tactless  brute  yet  not  quite  seeing 
why.  Suddenly  a  bright  thought  struck 
him:  he  tore  out  a  blank  cheque,  signed  it 
and  tossed  it  playfully  to  his  wife. 

"There,  there!"  he  observed,  soothingly. 


"A   FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     145 

"  Don't  cry  any  more,  Estelle.  Of  course 
these  children  must  be  entertained  —  of 
course  I  am  pleased  about  their  coming. 
But,  you  see,  we  business  men  have  so  much 
to  worry  us." 

Mr.  Hadwell's  business  consisted  in  driv- 
ing to  his  office  every  morning,  receiving 
the  obsequious  greetings  of  his  manager  — 
and  drawing  his  handsome  income.  Mrs. 
Hadwell  knew  this  as  well  —  better  than 
he  did  —  therefore 

"  Of  course,"  she  cooed,  drying  her  eyes 
and  regarding  her  spouse  with  mingled  awe 
and  wonder.  "  Of  course,  dear.  You  must 
forgive  me  if  I  seem  a  little  unreasonable, 
sometimes;  but  it  did  hurt  me  so  when  you 
seemed  to  think  that  all  I  wanted  from  you 
was  money  " 

"Of  course  —  of  course!"  said  her  hus- 
band, hastily.  "  Now  I  must  be  off.  What 
are  you  going  to  do,  to-day?" 

"  Well,  let  me  see !  Lynn  is  coming  to 
dinner  and  we  are  going  for  a  drive  first." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Mr.  Hadwell,  looking  pleased. 
He  heartily  approved  of  Lynn  and  took 
great  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  this  ex- 
ceptionally "  nice  "  young  woman  was  his 


146  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

wife's  best  friend;  feeling  that  Estelle's 
evident  devotion  to  Lynn  overbalanced  her 
quite  as  evident  love  of  flattery  and  atten- 
tion. Mr.  Hadwell  never  forgot  that  Lynn 
insisted  on  teaching  in  the  public  schools 
rather  than  allow  her  uncle  to  support  her, 
wholly:  a  piece  of  unselfishness  that  went 
straight  to  his  heart.  Needless  to  say,  he 
did  not  know  that  Estelle  had  talked  him 
over  with  Lynn  from  every  point  of  view, 
both  before  and  after  his  marriage  to  the 
former. 

Estelle  Harding  had  been  the  grand- 
daughter of  a  wealthy  man  who  had  died 
when  she  was  sixteen,  leaving  her  penni- 
less. For  the  next  five  years  she  had  lived 
with  dift'erent  relatives,  positively  refusing 
to  follow  the  example  of  her  friend,  Lynn 
Thayer,  who  was  preparing  at  the  High 
and  Normal  schools,  to  earn  her  living  as 
a  teacher.  Being  tremendously  popular 
both  with  girls  and  boys,  she  was  deluged 
with  invitations  and  love  aflfairs;  but  at 
twenty-one,  she  met  Mr.  Hadwell,  a 
wealthy  and  retiring  bachelor  of  sixty- 
three,  and,  from  that  time  on,  she  paid  as- 
siduous and  tactful  court  to  him.     The  net 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     147 

result  of  this  campaign  was  that,  in  six 
months  from  the  time  she  had  first  met 
him,  Mr.  Hadwell  was  a  married  man.  It 
speaks  well  for  our  small  heroine's  tactics 
that  her  husband,  to  his  dying  day,  be- 
lieved that  he  had  fallen  madly  in  love  with 
her  when  he  saw  her  first  and  that  nothing 
but  his  overpowering  fascinations  had  in- 
duced the  shy  damsel  to  become  his  wife. 
"  You  were  the  first  man  who  had  ever 
cared  for  me,"  Estelle  would  say  to  him, 
sometimes.  "  The  others  —  oh,  they  were 
just  boys!  I  couldn't  look  up  to  them,  dear: 
they  were  on  a  level  with  myself."  This 
was  a  particularly  tactful  lie  on  Mrs.  Had- 
well's  part:  she  knew  well  that  among  her 
admirers  had  been  young  men  whose  intel- 
lect and  strength  of  character  had  far  sur- 
passed her  husband's.  But  tactful  lying 
was  Mrs.  Hadwell's  forte. 

Many  and  varied  were  the  comments  on 
Miss  Harding's  engagement.  "Little  cat! 
how  clever  she  is,"  said  some.  The  ma- 
jority, however,  murmured  feelingly,  "  So 
glad  that  sweet  girl  will  have  her  reward." 

"  That  sweet  girl  "  had  had  her  reward. 
All  that  she  cared  for  in  life  —  money,  so- 


148         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

cial  position,  unlimited  flattery  and  envy- 
were  hers  without  stint.  And,  much  as  I 
hate  to  grieve  the  moralists,  Estelle  Had- 
well  was  a  supremely  happy  and  contented 
woman.  If  she  had  been  childless  it  is  pos- 
sible that  her  lot  might,  at  times,  have 
palled  on  her:  but  two  pretty,  healthy  chil- 
dren occupied  what  little  heart  she  had. 
Her  husband,  though  in  a  vague  way  proud 
of  his  children's  beauty  and  brightness, 
cared  little  for  them:  what  heart  he  had 
was  occupied  by  his  wife  who  played  upon 
his  affections  with  the  hand  of  a  practised 
artist. 

She  let  the  cheque  lie  by  her  plate,  now, 
as  she  rose  and  kissed  her  better  half,  affec- 
tionately. 

"  What  a  delightful  visit  those  dear  twins 
will  have,  thanks  to  your  generosity,"  she 
said,  smiling  at  him,  affectionately. 

Mr.  Hadwell  waved  a  patronizing  dis- 
claimer. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  what  I  can 
for  Carl's  children,"  he  said,  magnificently. 

"  That  is  so  like  you,  dear,"  returned  his 
simple  little  wife,  gently. 

She  was  giggling  softly  to  herself  over 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     149 

this  conversation  in  the  afternoon  as  she 
pinned  an  expensive  little  hat  over  her  still 
more  expensive  tresses.  "  I  really  do  think 
I  am  cleverer  than  most  women,"  she 
mused.  "  I  get  just  v^hat  I  w^ant  and  I 
never  hurt  the  dear  old  thing's  feelings." 
She  was  really  fond  of  her  husband  whose 
absorption  in  her  satisfied  her  vanity  and 
whose  jealousy  served  to  render  life  inter- 
esting. When  Lynn  Thayer  arrived  she 
entered  into  a  long  and  detailed  account  of 
her  morning's  work,  ending  by  triumph- 
antly displaying  the  cheque.  Lynn  laughed, 
unwillingly. 

"  I  do  hate  that  sort  of  thing,  Estelle," 
she  said.  "  I  know  you're  awfully  clever 
at  getting  your  own  way,  but  I  can  never 
understand  why  you  don't  get  Mr.  Had- 
well  to  allow  you  a  certain  sum,  monthly. 
Then  you  wouldn't  have  to  stoop  to  this 
sort  of  thing." 

"  Oh,  but  I  like  stooping,"  said  Estelle, 
placidly.  "  And,  besides,  if  I  knew  just 
how  much  I  was  going  to  get  every  month 
it  would  be  awfully  tame.  You  haven't  a 
bit  of  the  gambler  in  you,  Lynn." 

"  Not  a  particle." 


ISO  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Then  there's  another  side  to  the  ques- 
tion. If  Henry  had  to  make  me  an  allow- 
ance he  would  only  allow  for  necessities. 
For  instance,  if  I  wanted  to  run  down  to 
New  York  for  a  week  or  two  it  would  have 
to  come  out  of  my  dress  allowance.  That 
would  be  horrid.  Oh,  I  had  such  a  time 
getting  a  few  hundred  dollars  out  of  him 
the  last  time  I  went.  He  wrangled  over 
every  detail  —  actually  wanted  me  to  stay 
in  the  suburbs  because  hotels  were  cheaper 
there,  quite  forgetting  that  my  fare  in  and 
out  would  amount  to  something.  As  I  said 
to  him,  '  I  suppose  I  could  walk  to  the 
ferry  —  it's  only  twenty  miles  or  so  each 
way  and  exercise  is  good  for  one  —  but  I 
really  couldn't  walk  across  the  water;  I'm 
not  quite  divine  yet ! '  " 

"You  absurd  child!  What  did  he  say  to 
that?" 

"  Oh,  he  mumbled  something  to  the  effect 
that  I  ought  to  be  a  Christian  Scientist. 
That  was  meant  as  a  joke.  He  always  jokes 
when  he  feels  ashamed.  So  I  said,  '  Yes, 
if  I  were  a  Christian  Scientist  I  could  walk 
over  anything,  yourself  included;  but  be- 
cause I  am  only  your  poor,   stupid,  little 


"A   FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     151 

wife,  I  must  humbly  beg  you  for  money 
for  this  little  trip.'  Then  he  tried  to  be 
pompous,  the  way  he  always  does  when  I 
pretend  to  knuckle  down.  He  said,  *  If  I 
don't  want  you  to  go  to  New  York,  that 
ought  to  be  enough  for  any  well-regulated 
wife.'  And  I  said,  *  You  dear  old  stupid! 
I'm  not  a  well-regulated  wife.  Don't  be 
so  ridiculous.  Anyone  would  think  I  was 
a  watch  to  hear  you  talk!'  Then  I  looked 
cute  and  rolled  my  eyes  at  him  and  he 
caved  right  in.  Dear  me,  Lynn,  what  a  pity 
it  is  I  can't  bestow  some  of  my  superfluous 
cleverness  on  you.  Your  aunt  tells  me  that 
you  are  positively  discouraging  Mr.  Ligh- 
ton.    You  must  be  mad." 

"  I  am  mad  —  thoroughly  mad  about  the 
whole  business.  Why  in  the  world  should 
I  marry  this  man  simply  because  he  asks 
me?  Really,  I  have  been  so  advised  and 
dictated  to  and  badgered  about  him  that 
now  the  very  thought  of  his  face  makes  me 
feel  angry." 

"Then  why  do  you  think  of  his  face?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Hadwell,  opening  her  grey 
eyes,  innocently.  "Why  don't  you  forget 
about  his  face  and  think  about  his  figure 


152  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

at  the  bank?  That  is  what  any  sensible 
girl  would  do." 

Lynn  groaned.  "  I'm  not  a  sensible  girl, 
unfortunately,"  she  said.  "  Now,  Del,  if 
you're  going  for  a  drive  before  dinner  you 
had  better  hurry." 

"Very  well.  I'm  ready.  Dear  me!  I 
must  just  see  Mrs.  Waite  before  we  go  and 
tell  her  to  have  dinner  at  seven.  Oh,  Lynn! 
that  woman  is  such  a  comfort  to  me.  She's 
a  regular  automaton,  knows  how  every- 
thing in  the  house  should  be  done  —  and 
does  it!  Of  course  she  is  absolutely  heart- 
less, but  —  what  are  you  giggling  at?  Oh, 
my  dear,  I  may  not  be  particularly  intense 
or  passionate,  but  I  assure  you  I  am  a  vol- 
cano beside  Mrs.  Waite.  She  doesn't  care 
for  the  children,  she  doesn't  even  care  for 
me.  Now  you  know  there  must  be  some- 
thing radically  wrong  with  any  one  who 
doesn't  care  for  me  —  I  may  have  my  faults, 
but  no  one  can  deny  that  I  am  the  most 
fascinating  person!  —  and  in  her  case  it  is 
the  stranger  as  she  is  a  decayed  gentle- 
woman and  I  have  gone  out  of  my  way  to 
show  her  kindness.  Why,  I  even  asked  her 
to  dine  with  Henry  and  me  once  when  we 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     153 

had  people  who  knew  her  coming  to  din- 
ner: and  she  looked  at  me  with  her  Me- 
dusa-like countenance  and  refused.  But  as 
a  housekeeper  she  is  a  jewel  and,  as  long 
as  she  runs  my  house  like  clockwork,  I  can 
excuse  her  lack  of  geniality.  Here  she  is. 
Oh,  Mrs.  Waite,  will  you  tell  Sarah  to  put 
off  dinner  till  eight.  I  am  going  out  with 
Miss  Thayer.  By  the  way,  you  don't  know 
Miss  Thayer,  do  you?  Miss  Thayer,  Mrs. 
Waite.     Don't  forget  about  dinner. 

"There,  isn't  she  a  Gorgon,  Lynn?  She 
is  always  just  like  that  —  neat,  accurate, 
frigid,  freezing.  Ugh!  What  a  lovely  day 
for  a  drive,  isn't  it?  I'm  going  to  Mr. 
Amherst's  to  take  a  look  at  my  portrait. 
It  is  going  to  be  so  nice  and  I  want  you 
to  see  it.  I  am  sure  it  will  be  hung  in  the 
Art  Gallery  at  the  Spring  Exhibition. 
What  a  nice  man  he  is,  isn't  he?  By  the 
way,  speaking  of  Mrs.  Waite,  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  why  I  always  make  a  point  of 
introducing  her  to  all  my  friends  and  hav- 
ing things  just  as  pleasant  for  her  as  pos- 
sible. It's  because  she's  like  that  much- 
talked-of  'skeleton  at  the  feast';  she's  a 
perpetual  reminder  to  me  of  how  lucky  I 


154         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

am.  I  wish  you  would  compare  us  and 
take  a  lesson,  my  friend.  I'm  the  bright 
example,  she's  the  awful  warning.  I  might 
have  been  just  where  she  is  to-day  if  I 
hadn't  had  my  wits  about  me.  She  might 
be  where  I  am  if  she  had  made  the  most 
of  her  opportunities.  Don't  waste  time  tell- 
ing me  that  she's  plain  and  uninteresting. 
I  would  be  plain  if  I  didn't  dress  properly 
and  eat  good  food  and  take  good  care  of 
myself;  and,  as  for  'interesting,'  every 
woman  is  interesting  to  a  man  if  she  im- 
presses him  as  being  sensible  and  wom- 
anly —  that  is,  if  she  enjoys  his  conversa- 
tion and  tells  him  that  she  likes  dusting. 
Every  man  likes  a  woman  who  is  fond  of 
dusting.  I  don't  know  why.  And,  as  for 
sweeping,  there  is  no  surer  passport  to  a 
man's  affections  than  to  tell  him  that  you 
sweep  out  your  own  room  every  morning. 
It  never  fails  to  have  the  desired  effect.  It 
doesn't  matter  if  the  man  is  a  multi-million- 
aire with  an  army  of  housemaids  and  foot- 
men; he  still  thinks  it  is  womanly  and  do- 
mestic to  sweep.  If  I  ever  found  my  hold 
on  Henry's  affections  becoming  a  trifle 
slack,  I  should  immediately  start  sweeping." 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     155 

"  Del,  I  don't  think  I  ever  met  anyone 
who  could  talk  more  nonsense  than  you,  in 
a  given  space  of  time." 

"  Nonsense !  Oh,  Lynn,  if  I  could  only 
get  you  to  understand  that  w^hat  I  am  say- 
ing, although  delivered  as  if  it  were  the 
merest  airy  persiflage,  is  the  soundest  com- 
mon sense.  If  you  want  to  be  admired  and 
respected  by  the  male  sex  —  sweep!  Or, 
if  you  don't  like  sweeping,  don't  sweep; 
but  talk  about  sweeping  as  if  it  were  the 
one  thing  that  you  doted  on;  convey  the 
impression  that  you  would  rather  sweep 
than  go  motoring  any  day.  The  man  in 
question  may  have  thought  you  a  charming 
girl  before,  but,  after  that,  his  feelings  will 
take  a  deeper  tinge;  you  will  advance  in 
his  mind  to  the  status  of  a  womanly 
woman.  Delicious!  Instead  of  these  lec- 
tures girls  are  always  attending  at  Y.  W.  C. 
A.'s  and  colleges,  about  Browning  and  the 
Pyramids  and  the  condition  of  the  poor 
and  the  prevalence  of  frivolity,  what  a  pity 
it  is  they  can't  attend  lectures  given  by 
some  past-master  in  the  art  of  flirting  — 
such  as  I,  for  instance!  Wouldn't  those 
lectures   be   crowded,   though;    that   is,    if 


156         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

girls  knew  what  was  good  for  them.  And 
here  you  have  all  the  advantages  of  a  pri- 
vate course  of  instruction  and  you  won't 
take  the  trouble  to  learn  the  first  rules  of 
the  game.  Ah,  the  golden  words  of  wisdom 
wasted!   the  opportunities  lost.    Ah  me!" 

"  Del,  I  strongly  object  to  your  speaking 
as  though  I  had  no  opportunities.  Haven't 
I  always  at  least  one  person  who  wants 
to  marry  me?  even  though  I  do  tell  the 
truth  occasionally?" 

"  You  have.  But  that's  by  good  luck, 
not  by  management.  You  might  have 
twenty  if  you  exerted  yourself  properly." 

"  You  make  me  feel  as  though  I  were  a 
sort  of  derelict.     It's  a  horrid  feeling." 

"  If  I  succeed  in  making  you  feel  a  dere- 
lict I  have  succeeded  beyond  my  wildest 
expectations.  Don't  you  know,  my  dear 
child,  that  you  are  experiencing  in  a  faint 
degree  what  you  will  experience  all  your 
life  if  you  don't  hurry  up  and  settle  your- 
self. Don't  you  know  that  for  the  next 
fifty  years  you  will,  not  only  feel,  but  be  a 
derelict  if  you  don't  accept  Lighton  and 
marry  him  before  he  changes  his  mind." 

"  Thank  goodness,  this  drive  can't  last 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     157 

forever,"  exclaimed  Lynn,  laughing.  "  Oth- 
erwise I  should  be  compelled  to  get  out  and 
walk.  You  are  perfectly  unendurable  some- 
times, Del,  and  this  is  certainly  one  of  the 
times." 

"  I'm  going  to  be  unendurable  again  and 
to  better  purpose,  I  hope,  a  little  later  on," 
said  Mrs.  Hadwell,  darkly.  "  But  now  I 
suppose  we'll  have  to  descend  —  or  ascend, 
if  you  like  it  better  —  from  practical  life  to 
pictures.  Mr.  Amherst  paints  well,  doesn't 
he?  And  what  a  nice  man  he  is.  I  don't 
know  anyone  who  doesn't  like  him,  do 
you?" 

"  No,  I  don't  think  I  do.  He's  nice  and 
very  popular." 

"  And  a  great  friend  of  yours  too,  isn't 
he?  I  haven't  heard  you  speak  of  him, 
lately.    I  thought  at  one  time  "  — 

"Oh,  Del,  do  think  of  something  else!" 
exclaimed  Lynn  a  little  crossly.  "  Men, 
men,  men  —  and  marriage,  marriage,  mar- 
riage! Do  let  us  think  and  talk  of  some- 
thing else." 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,  we'll  talk  of  my- 
self. I  wanted  to  get  up  a  flirtation  with 
Mr.  Amherst  this  winter  and  he  didn't  seem 


158         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

to  respond  at  all.  So  I  immediately  thought 
that  he  must  be  interested  in  someone  else 
and,  as  he  was  always  calling  on  you,  nat- 
urally I  thought " — 

"Men  again!" 

"  Not  men  but  a  man.  Don't  you  per- 
ceive the  delicate  distinction?  Well,  as  I 
was  saying,  Mr.  Amherst  didn't  seem  a  bit 
interested  in  me,  charming  though  I  am 
and  was  —  what  a  mercy  old  Tom  is  stone 
deaf!  —  and  I  was  extremely  puzzled.  I 
didn't  like  to  be  too  pointed  in  my  atten- 
tions "  — 

"  I  do  wish,  Del,  that  you  wouldn't  talk 
in  that  way.  It  sets  my  teeth  on  edge  to 
hear  a  married  woman  speak  in  the  way 
you  do.    Why  don't  you  "  — 

"  Stay  at  home  and  attend  to  my  house 
and  children?  So  I  do;  but  not  being  al- 
together a  fossil  yet  I  want  to  do  some- 
thing else  at  times.  Isn't  that  natural  at 
my  age  ?  " 

"  Quite  natural  at  your  age,  and  there  is 
just  the  weak  point  of  a  marriage  like 
yours.  If  you  had  married  somebody  you 
really  cared  about,  other  men  wouldn't  in- 
terest you." 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     159 

"  Not  for  the  first  year  or  so,  no.  After 
that,  they  would.  I  might  not  like  them 
so  well  as  I  did  my  husband,  but  I  should 
like  them  and  want  them  to  like  me.  Yes, 
and  I  should  want  them  to  fall  in  love  with 
me,  too,  so  long  as  they  didn't  tell  me 
about  it  and  insist  on  making  unpleasant 
scenes.  Of  course,  in  that  case,  they  would 
go,  just  as  they  do,  now.  You  know  that, 
Lynn." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  You  are  very  care- 
ful, Del.  I  suppose  it  is  all  right  and  quite 
harmless  in  its  way,  but  I  can't  say  that  I 
approve  of  it.  What  is  the  sense  of  having 
two  or  three  men  always  sighing  around 
because  they  can't  marry  you?  " 

"  What's  the  sense  of  music  or  flowers 
or  strawberry  tarts?  I  like  them  and  they 
agree  with  me.  You  know  there  is  a  lot 
of  misconception  with  regard  to  the  real 
tastes  of  a  young  woman  after  she  marries. 
If  she  is  a  person  who  grows  and  develops 
she  must,  of  necessity,  like  many  things 
besides  her  husband  and  children.  Now 
here  is  a  case  in  point.  Because  I  am  de- 
voted to  my  own  children  is  that  any  rea- 
son why  I  should  not  be  fond  of  other  peo- 


i6o  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

pie's  children?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  don't 
care  much  for  any  children  but  my  own; 
but,  if  I  did,  wouldn't  that  be  blameless  and 
even  praiseworthy?  So  with  men.  I 
should  always  like  them  all  even  if  I  were 
eighty  and  had  been  married  all  my  life." 

"  It's  a  funny  thing,  Del,  but  some  way 
you  never  seem  married,  to  me." 

"  I  was  married,  I  assure  you.  I  remem- 
ber it  very  distinctly.  White  is  not  becom- 
ing to  me,  so  I  wore  a  dark  blue  cashmere 
dress  and  a  stunning  black  toque  with  lit- 
tle feathers  —  you  remember?  And  Henry 
thought  I  was  so  sensible  and  so  above 
feminine  frivolities." 

"  It  is  awfully  hard  to  know  what  is 
right  and  wrong,  I  must  say.  You  cer- 
tainly make  Mr.  Hadwell  perfectly  happy 
and  you  are  an  ideal  mother.  Perhaps  you 
are  more  in  the  right  than  I  think." 

"  My  dear,  I  have  read  somewhere  that 
there  are  certain  plants  which  die  just  as 
soon  as  they  have  propagated.  That  is  all 
they  exist  for;  just  to  reproduce  their  own 
life  and  then  die.  Now  there  are  a  good 
many  women  in  the  world  who  are  like 
these  plants.     They  are  not  half  as  good 


"A    FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     i6i 

mothers,  not  half  as  satisfactory  wives  as 
I  am;  but  they  are  devoid  of  all  possibility 
of  offending  because,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, they  died  with  the  birth  of  their  first 
child.  Henceforth  they  exist  in  a  modified 
form.  They  are  no  longer  individuals  but 
vegetables.  All  the  young  plant  needs  is 
air  and  light;  but,  as  the  young  human 
needs  food,  clothes,  exercise  and  various 
other  things,  they  exist  solely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  furnishing  it  with  those  things. 
They  are  incapable  of  holding  an  opinion 
or  formulating  a  thought;  they  all  think 
exactly  alike  on  all  subjects  —  which  means, 
practically,  that  they  do  not  think  at  all  — 
their  education,  intellectually,  stopped  when 
they  graduated  from  school,  their  educa- 
tion, emotionally,  when  they  married.  Are 
they  more  commendable  than  I?  What 
do  they  do  that  I  don't?  Only  I  do  other 
things  in  addition.  I  am  a  living  woman, 
not  a  maternal  cipher.  I  have  a  heart  and 
a  mind  and  a  life  of  my  own  and  these 
develop  side  by  side  with  the  development 
of  my  children.  Of  course  the  mere  fact 
of  life  existing  means  that  there  are  possi- 
bilities of  mistakes  being  made,  faults  being 


i62  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

committed;  but  isn't  it  better  to  live  than 
to  die?  Lynn,  I  didn't  know  I  was  so 
clever!    Aren't  you  proud  of  me?'* 

"  Proud  of  you,  all  round,  Del,  except 
that  I  still  wish  you  didn't  flirt.  Even  if 
you  are  not  in  love  with  your  husband  it 
is  bad  form  to  publish  the  fact.  And  the 
very  fact  that  you  are  still  alive  —  very 
much  alive  —  and  capable  of  leading  a  life 
apart  from  your  children  makes  your  way 
of  acting  dangerous.  I  am  always  afraid 
that  some  day  you  will  "  — 

"  That  some  day  I  shall  fall  in  love  and 
make  a  fool  of  myself?  Don't  worry. 
Some  women  are  dominated  by  one  of  the 
great  primal  instincts,  some  by  another.  I 
am  a  mother,  first  and  last  and  always. 
Men  are  only  things  to  play  with,  but  my 
children  are  necessities.  I  could  never  do 
anything  that  would  cause  them  a  mo- 
ment's anxiety  or  difficulty  in  the  future. 
No,  my  dear!  When  little  Aileen  is  enjoy- 
ing her  first  season  her  mother  will  be  the 
same  irreproachable,  if  frivolous,  matron 
that  she  is  at  present.  What  a  serious  con- 
versation we  have  drifted  into,  haven't  we? 
I    don't    like    it  —  seriousness!      Dear    me, 


"A   FIN-DE-SIECLE    PAIR"     163 

Lynn,  what  in  the  world  should  I  do  if  any- 
thing were  to  happen  to  you?  You're  the 
only  person  whom  I  dare  to  be  myself  with. 
Catch  me  trusting  another  woman.  What 
makes  you  so  unlike  other  women,  Lynn?  " 

"  Possibly  the  lack  of  sense  for  which 
you  were  upbraiding  me  so  heartily  a  little 
while  ago,"  said  Lynn,  slyly.  "  By  the  way, 
Del,  that  name,  *  Waite,'  is  strangely  fa- 
miliar to  me.  Oh,  of  course!  I  know,  now. 
I  had  a  little  pupil,  once  "  — 

"  Oh,  Lynn,  please  don't  start  to  talk 
about  those  ragamuffins  of  yours.  I  should 
think  you  would  be  glad  to  put  them  out 
of  your  mind  for  a  few  hours." 

"  He  was  a  most  unfortunate  child,"  pur- 
sued Lynn,  unheeding.  "  He  was  plain  and 
stupid  and  he  knew  it:  and  he  came  from 
a  different  social  class  from  most  of  the 
others,  which  seemed  to  put  the  final  touch 
to  his  isolation.  I  was  glad  when  he  died, 
poor  little  chap!  He  was  devoted  to  me 
and  I  made  a  great  pet  of  him  because  he 
seemed  so  lonely.     I  wonder  if  "  — 

"  Oh,  a  Gorgon-faced,  icebergy  automa- 
ton like  Mrs.  Waite  never  had  a  child  in 
her  life,  I'm  sure.    Here  we  are  at  last." 


CHAPTER   XI 

VISITORS   AND  DISCLOSURES 

"  Knowledge  comes  but  wisdom  lingers." 

—  Tennyson. 

"  I  would  that  you  were  all  to  me. 

You  that  are  just  so  much,  no  more, 
Nor  yours,  nor  mine,  not  slave  nor  free! 

Where  does  the  fault  lie?    What  the  core 
O'  the  wound,  since  wound  must  be." 

.  —  Browning. 

"  T  LOVE  Studios,"  announced  Mrs.  Had- 
I    well  with  effusion,  "  and  I  love  artists. 
-*■  Not  you,  only,  Mr.  Amherst,  but  all 
artists.    They're  so  interesting." 

"  Don't,  please  don't,  Mrs.  Hadwell,"  im- 
plored Amherst,  laughing.  "  I  have  always 
hoped  that  my  habit  of  keeping  my  head 
closely  cropped  and  my  face  carefully 
shaved  would  save  me  from  being  thought 
*  interesting.'  You  have  no  idea  what  vis- 
ions that  word  *  interesting '  conjures  up  in 
the  mind  of  the  average  man.     Dinky  vel- 

164 


VISITORS  AND  DISCLOSURES    165 

vet  coats,  unkempt  beards,  dirty  hands, 
soulful  eyes  —  don't,  whatever  else  you  do, 
call  me  *  interesting.'  You  might  as  well 
call  a  spoilt  beauty  a  '  nice,  sensible  girl.'  " 

"  That  is  something  that  no  one  ever 
called  me,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell  thoughtfully, 
tugging  at  her  gloves.  "  You  needn't  look 
at  me,  Mr.  Amherst;  I  feel  like  staying 
here  a  while  and  I'm  going  to  stay,  no  mat- 
ter how  busy  you  are  —  there,  don't  apolo- 
gize or  waste  time  in  saying  you'll  be  glad 
to  see  me  and  have  me  stay.  Of  course  you 
will  —  a  sensible  man  like  you !  What  were 
we  saying  when  you  .  interrupted  me  —  I 
mean,  when  I  interrupted  myself?  Oh, 
yes!  I  was  saying  that  no  one  had  ever 
called  me  a  '  nice,  sensible  girl.'  " 

"  The  reason  is  obvious,"  declared  Am- 
herst, laughing. 

"  Why  —  oh,  I  see !  Thank  you.  You 
mean  that  I  don't  look  sensible.  No,  I 
should  hope  I  didn't.     I  should  hate  to ! " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  look  sensible," 
said  Lynn,  wheeling  suddenly  round  from 
the  contemplation  of  a  picture,  "  but  people 
must  think  I  do,  for  I  so  often  hear  myself 
referred  to  as  *  that  nice,  sensible  girl.'    Is 


i66  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

it  an  insult?  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that 
light." 

"  Not  an  insult,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Had- 
well,  composedly,  "  but  an  undoubted  lie. 
Of  all  people  who  lack  the  first  elements 
of  sense  you  certainly  head  the  list.  Doesn't 
she,  Mr.  Amherst?  But  no,  of  course,  you 
wouldn't  think  so,  naturally.  You're  a 
man,  and  anyway,  you  don't  know  her." 

"  I  should  have  said  I  knew  Miss  Thayer 
pretty  well,"  said  Amherst,  looking  sur- 
prised, "  and  I  should  certainly  have 
thought  that  she  was  very  sensible.  I  don't 
see  what  you  mean." 

"  Of  course  you  don't.  As  I  previously 
remarked,  you're  a  man.  You  think  she's 
sensible  and  I  have  little  doubt  but  that, 
in  your  heart  of  hearts,  you  think  I'm  a 
foolish  little  thing.  Yet  there's  more  sense 
in  my  little  finger  than  there  is  in  all  of 
Lynn's  tall  body.    /  know." 

"  What  you  call  sense  I  call  lying  and 
cheating,"  returned  Lynn,  composedly. 

Amherst  burst  out  laughing. 

"  You  and  Miss  Thayer  are  certainly  the 
most  candid  pair  I  have  ever  run  across," 
he  cried.    "  Do  you  always  give  and  return 


VISITORS  AND  DISCLOSURES    167 

these  insults  in  perfect  good  faith?  or  does 
one  or  the  other  sometimes  get  annoyed?" 

"  Never,"  replied  Lynn.  "  I  can't  imag- 
ine anything  happening  to  make  Del  and 
me  quarrel.  In  fact,  I  don't  believe  w^e 
could  quarrel.  I  don't  know  what  other 
people  fight  about,  anyway.    Do  you,  Del?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell.  "  They 
fight  because  one  has  a  better  hat  than  the 
other  or  because  one  likes  red  and  the  other 
likes  blue,  but,  generally,  because  they  both 
want  the  same  man.  Isn't  that  so,  Mr. 
Amherst?  But,  you  see,  in  this  case,  Lynn 
and  I  never  like  the  same  man,  so  we  don't 
clash." 

"  But  even  if  we  did,"  said  Lynn,  em- 
phatically, "  I  can't  imagine  either  of  us 
doing  anything  so  vulgar  as  to  quarrel, 
Del.  I'm  sure  if  the  man  preferred  you, 
you  could  have  him;  and,  if  he  preferred 
me,  I'd  give  him  up  to  you  without  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation." 

"I  wonder!"  said  her  friend,  teasingly. 
"  Suppose  I  had  taken  a  fancy  to  that  ab- 
surd boy  with  the  black  eyes  and  the  un- 
pronounceable Italian  name  —  would  you 
have  given  him  up  to  me,  Lynn?    I  doubt 


i68  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

it.  Do  you  remember  him,  Mr.  Amherst? 
Wasn't  it  funny,  the  way  our  dear  sensible 
Lynn  bowed  down  before  him?  I  think  it 
must  have  been  her  attentions  that  drove 
him  to  drink,  don't  you?  he  probably 
thought  that  he  was  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  dragged  to  the  altar." 

Lynn  smiled  a  little  but  stirred  restlessly 
and  did  not  make  any  comment  on  this. 

"What  has  become  of  that  boy?"  cried 
Mrs.  Hadwell,  suddenly.  "There,  now! 
I'm  so  glad  I  thought  to  ask  you.  You 
ought  to  know  if  anyone  would;  you  were 
quite  pals,  weren't  you,  Mr.  Amherst?  Is 
the  boy  dead?  " 

"  Unfortunately,  no,"  returned  Amherst, 
dryly. 

"  Then  what's  become  of  him?  " 

"  Are  you,  too,  interested  in  his  fate. 
Miss  Thayer?"  asked  Amherst,  turning  to 
where  she  stood  looking  intently  at  him, 
as  though  something  hung  on  his  answer. 
"  You  used  to  be  very  good  to  him,  as  Mrs. 
Hadwell  says.  Would  you  like  to  know 
where  he  is,  now?  " 

"  Yes  —  no  —  yes,  I  should  like  to  very 
much,"  said  Lynn  in  a  low  voice. 


VISITORS  AND  DISCLOSURES    169 

"  Well,  he  is  within  a  few  minutes'  walk 
of  this  place." 

"You  don't  say  so!  And  what  is  he 
doing?"  asked  Mrs.  Hadwell  with  much 
excitement. 

"  Going  to  the  devil  as  fast  as  he  possi- 
bly can." 

"How?  Why?  Wherefore?  Lynn,  I 
shall  shake  you  in  another  minute  if  you 
don't  show  a  little  more  interest.  This  is 
positively  the  most  exciting  thing.  Think 
of  it!  Ricossia!  —  going  to  the  Devil  with 
a  big  D !  —  within  a  few  minutes'  walk  of 
this  place.  What's  his  address,  Mr.  Am- 
herst?" 

"I  —  I  don't  feel  at  liberty  to  tell  you 
that,"  responded  Amherst,  after  a  slight 
hesitation.  "  I  don't  think  he  would  like  to 
have  it  known." 

"  Oh,  he  must  be  a  terribly  shady  char- 
acter," said  Mrs.  Hadwell  with  a  delighted 
chuckle.  "  I  think  all  this  is  thrilling.  Do 
tell  me  his  address.  I  won't  hurt  him.  I 
only  want  to  see  for  myself  what  he  is 
doing  and  how  he  is.  I'll  —  I'd  like  to  take 
him  a  glass  of  jelly  and  some  grapes. 
What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Amherst?" 


I70         THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"Excuse  me.  The  idea  of  Ricossia  in 
conjunction  with  the  glass  of  jelly  and  the 
grapes  upset  me  for  the  moment,  that  is 
all." 

"  I'd  take  him  some  champagne  if  Lynn 
wasn't  with  me.  In  my  most  abandoned 
moments  I  never  forget  that  I  am  a  chap- 
eron so  I'm  afraid  the  champagne  will 
have  to  be  left  behind.  But  I  will  go  and 
see  him  —  Mr.  Amherst,  do  tell  me." 

Amherst  smilingly  shook  his  head. 

"  He  wouldn't  like  it,  I  know." 

"  You're  quite  right,"  said  Lynn,  regard- 
ing the  speaker,  gratefully.  "  I'm  sure  he 
wouldn't  like  it.  I  wouldn't,  in  his  place. 
Do  —  do  you  ever  see  him,  Mr.  Amherst?" 

"  Often.  I  frequently  run  over  and  just 
have  an  eye  to  him.  I  always  expect  to 
find  him  frozen  or  burnt  to  death  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort.  But  Providence  always 
looks  after  people  of  that  kind.  He'll  die 
in  his  bed,  no  fear  —  the  little  brute !  " 

Lynn  started  and  flushed. 

"  I  thought  you  liked  him,"  she  said  with 
involuntary  reproach  in  her  tone.   . - 

"Well  — fact  is,  I  don't.  What's  more, 
I  don't  know  anyone  who  does.    The  boy's 


VISITORS  AND  DISCLOSURES    171 

unfit  to  live  and  about  equally  unfit  to  die 
—  poor  little  chap !  It's  wonderful,  though, 
the  way  he  lasts.  He's  a  living  example  of 
a  theory  I've  always  held,  namely,  that  con- 
sumption doesn't  really  kill,  no  matter  what 
the  hardships  may  be,  until  the  consump- 
tive loses  interest  in  life  and  living.  Then, 
he  goes  very  quickly." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  said  Lynn,  tone- 
lessly. 

"  Now,  while  Mrs.  Hadwell  is  absorbed 
in  the  bald  man  with  the  red  nose  who  is 
hanging  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,"  said 
Amherst,  hastily,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  some- 
thing. How  is  it  that  I  never  see  you, 
now?  It  must  be  a  month  since  I  last 
had  a  real  talk  with  you.  What's  the  mat- 
ter?" 

"The  matter?    Why,  nothing." 

"  You're  not  offended  with  me  about  any- 
thing?" 

"  Why,  no." 

"  In  the  last  few  weeks  I  must  have  rung 
you  up  a  dozen  times,  but  you  have  always 
been  out  or  engaged.  You  must  lead  a 
busy  life." 

"  I    do,"    said    Lynn,    smiling    faintly. 


172  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  But  I  am  sorry  you  thought  I  didn't  want 
to  see  you.    It  wasn't  that." 

"Wasn't  it?" 

Amherst's  voice  changed. 

"  Do  you  know  that  you  have  avoided  me 
ever  since  that  night  at  the  Burns'?" 

"  I  —  I  hadn't  thought  about  it." 

"Is  that  the  truth?" 

Lynn  was  silent:   then  — 

"  Not  exactly,"  she  said  with  a  faint  ef- 
fort. 

"  I  tried  to  say  something  to  you  that 
evening  —  you  remember?" 

"  Yes." 

"Why  wouldn't  you  let  me  say  it?" 

"  I  thought  you  had  better  not,"  said 
Lynn  in  a  low  voice. 

"Don't  say  that;  not  unless  you  mean 
me  to  understand  that  "  — 

"  Mr.  Amherst,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Hadwell, 
imperatively,  "you  are  a  horrid  man! 
First  you  refuse  to  give  me  Ricossia's  ad- 
dress, next  you  stand  and  talk  to  Miss 
Thayer  in  a  low  voice  without  giving  me 
a  chance  to  show  her  my  portrait.  She's 
dying  to  see  it,  aren't  you,  Lynn?  and  it's 
getting  so  dark.    Can't  you  drive  back  with 


VISITORS  AND  DISCLOSURES    173 

me  and  take  dinner?  then  you  can  talk  to 
Lynn  as  much  as  ever  you  want  and  Mr. 
Hadwell  and  I  will  sit  by  like  deaf-mutes 
and  play  propriety.    Won't  you?" 

"  Awfully  sorry ! "  said  Amherst  with 
genuine  regret  in  his  voice.  "  I  have  an 
engagement  of  long  standing,  so  it's  impos- 
sible. But  if  you'll  only  repeat  the  invita- 
tion, I'd  love  to  come.    Will  you?" 

"  I  will,"  responded  Mrs.  Hadwell.  "  I'll 
look  up  my  engagement  book  and  see  if  we 
can  find  an  evening  when  we  shall  all  be 
free.  In  the  meantime,  let  me  ask  you  what 
this  means,  this  little  wrinkle  in  my  brow? 
I've  puzzled  over  it  for  at  least  ten  minutes 
and  I  demand  to  have  it  explained.  If  it 
is  copied  from  life,  you  must  simply  paint 
it  out,  that's  all!" 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  VIEWS   OF  TWO   WOMEN 

"Is  it  your  moral  of  Life? 

Such  a  web,  simple  and  subtle. 
Weave  we  on  earth  here  in  impotent  strife, 

Backward  and  forward  each  throwing  his  shuttle, 
Death  ending  all  with  a  knife." 

— Browning. 

THE  time  has  come,  the  Walrus 
said,  to  talk  of  many  things," 
quoted  Mrs.  Hadwell,  settling 
back  in  her  easy-chair  with  intense  satis- 
faction. If,  as  the  poet  asserts,  "  a  sorrow's 
crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier 
things  "  certainly  a  joy's  crown  of  joy  may 
be  remembering  unhappier  things.  One 
principal  reason  for  Mrs.  Hadwell's  calm 
and  unlimited  enjoyment  of  her  life  lay  in 
the  fact  that  her  youth  had  been  spent  in 
other  people's  easy-chairs.  It  is  note- 
worthy that  it  had  been  spent  in  easy- 
chairs  ;  women  of  her  type  always  do  spend 
their  lives  in  easy-chairs,  metaphorical  and 

174 


VIEWS    OF    TWO    WOMEN      175 

literal;  but  an  easy-chair  bestowed  upon 
one  by  a  doting  husband,  and  an  easy-chair 
occupied  by  sufferance  in  other  people's 
homes  are,  as  will  readily  be  perceived,  two 
very  different  pieces  of  furniture. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  talk  about  in 
particular?"  Lynn  asked,  regarding  her 
hostess  lazily.  Dinner  was  over;  Mr.  Had- 
well  had  betaken  himself  to  his  club;  and 
the  two  sat  at  their  ease  in  a  softly  shaded 
luxurious  library,  filled  with  unread  books 
in  half-calf.  Polished  mahogany,  heavy 
damask  curtains,  thick,  soft  carpets,  scent 
of  mignonette  and  roses,  all  added  to  its 
comfort. 

"  I  want  to  talk  about  all  sorts  of  things," 
returned  Estelle,  in  answer  to  her  friend's 
question.  "  Interesting  things  —  things  that 
matter  —  yourself  for  instance!  I  wonder 
why  it  is  that  so  few  people  talk  interest- 
ingly about  ordinary  things!  I  believe  it 
must  be  because  they  simply  will  not  tell 
the  truth  about  them;  they  stick  to  plati- 
tudes for  fear  of  blundering  on  some 
thought  they  feel  they  oughtn't  to  have. 
Don't  you  think  that  is  it?  Now  we  always 
look  things  right  in  the  face  and  say  just 


176  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

what  we  think  about  them;  and  that  is 
why  we're  so  queer  —  and  so  nice  —  and 
so  interesting  to  one  another.  And  this  is 
such  a  good  opportunity  for  a  talk.  We've 
had  such  a  lovely  dinner  —  wasn't  that 
soup  delicious?  and,  as  for  that  muscatel! 
Don't  you  simply  dote  on  things  to  eat? 
I  do.  I  never  agree  with  that  man  —  Solo- 
mon, wasn't  it?  —  who  said  that  he  would 
rather  have  a  dinner  of  herbs  and  peace 
than  a  stalled  ox  and  strife  therewith. 
Let  him  have  the  herbs!  and  give  me  the 
stalled  ox  every  time.  If  it  were  nicely 
served  and  properly  cooked  I  wouldn't  care 
if  there  were  seven  bad-tempered  married 
couples  and  sixteen  cross  cats  and  twenty 
squalling  parrots  all  rowing  together  at  my 
elbow.  That's  what  it  is  to  be  practical. 
Give  me  things  to  eat  and  a  good  appetite 
and  I  don't  care  much  what  happens. 
There's  something  about  a  dinner  which 
appeals  to  me  in  a  way  that  sunsets  and 
sonatas  don't.  And  yet  some  one  described 
me  the  other  day  as  being  *  spirituelle.' 
Fancy ! " 

"  Some  one  who  didn't  know  you  very 
well,  evidently." 


VIEWS    OF   TWO   WOMEN     177 

"  Some  one  who  has  called  me  '  Estelle  * 
all  his  life  except  the  four  years  of  it  when 
I  wasn't  born;  but,  as  you  say,  some  one 
who  doesn't  know  me  very  well  because  he 
happens  to  be  a  man  and  a  man  who  used 
to  be  in  love  with  me.  Poor  thing!  And 
yet  he's  happy  in  his  way  and  I'm  happy 
in  mine.  He  has  his  ideals  and  I  have  my 
dinners.  The  only  really  happy  people  are 
the  people  who  have  the  sense  to  prefer 
dinners  to  ideals  and  who  steadily  set  to 
work  to  get  them." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  happy.  If  dinners 
could  make  anyone  happy  you  ought  to  be. 
But,  tell  me,  Del,  do  you  never  want  any- 
thing else?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  want  silk  dresses  and  dia- 
mond brooches  and  the  feeling  that  every 
snob  in  town  will  kow-tow  as  soon  as  my 
snub  nose  appears.  And  I've  got  them  all 
—  thank  goodness!  I  very  easily  might 
not  have,  you  know.  There  are  so  many 
others  looking  out  for  just  the  opportunity 
I  seized.  And  every  one  said  that  Henry 
wasn't  a  marrying  man.  Ridiculous!  As 
if  every  one  wasn't  a  marrying  man  as  soon 
as  the  right  woman  came  along;  the  woman 


178         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

who  made  love  to  him  unremittingly  and 
tactfully  without  letting  him  see  that  she 
was  doing  it.  It  was  an  awful  bore,  some- 
times, to  make  love  to  Henry.  It  had  to 
be  done  so  carefully.  O  dear,  he  was  so 
surly  and  snubby  and  so  scared  of  being 
hooked.  But  it  didn't  do  any  good:  I  in- 
tended to  marry  him  and  I  married  him — 
and  so  could  you  if  you  had  any  gump- 
tion ! "  she  exclaimed,  veering  around  and 
fixing  Lynn  with  a  look  of  intense  deter- 
mination. 

"What?    Marry  Henry?" 

"Not  my  Henry,  no;  but  some  other 
Henry.  There  are  plenty  of  them  and  if 
you  don't  take  them  somebody  else  will. 
They  all  like  to  be  admired  and  courted. 
And  oh,  lucky  girl!  Fate  has  dropped  an 
ideal  Henry  right  in  your  lap." 

"Don't,  Del!  My  poor  lap!  And  as  for 
'  ideal,'  why,  he  has  green  teeth  and  goggly 
eyes." 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  not  so  good-looking, 
yourself." 

"  Now,  Del !  Have  I  goggly  eyes  and 
green  teeth?  Let  us  be  accurate  before  we 
are  aggravating.     Besides,  it  was  horrid  of 


VIEWS    OF    TWO    WOMEN     179 

me  to  speak  of  his  appearance.  Only  his 
appearance  is  so  exactly  like  him  that  it 
grates  on  me,  some  way." 

"  He  is  a  great  deal  too  good  for  you," 
said  her  friend,  indignantly. 

"  So  every  one  has  already  told  me.  Any- 
thing is  too  good  for  an  old,  ugly  school- 
teacher, I  dare  say;  but  I  don't  want  him, 
even  if  he  is  too  good  for  me." 

"  Now,  Lynn,  we'll  talk  this  over.  I 
want  to  have  the  whole  thing  out  with 
you." 

"  As  you  please." 

"Very  well,  then.  We  will  assume  that 
you  are  quite  determined  not  to  marry 
Lighton.  Two  other  courses  are  open  to 
you;  the  first,  to  go  on  teaching  all  your 
life;  the  second,  to  marry  some  one  else. 
We  will  examine  these  two  alternatives  — 
with  your  permission." 

"Or  without  it!" 

"  Or,  as  you  say,  without  it.  Let  us  begin 
then.  We  will  suppose  that  you  stay  as 
you  are  and  go  on  teaching.  You  are  not 
at  all  young,  now  —  you  needn't  grin.  I 
know  I  am  two  years  older,  but  that  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it;    I'm  married.     You 


i8o         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

are  not,  I  repeat,  young.  Every  year  you 
become  a  little  older  and  a  little  older." 

"  The  truth  of  your  remarks  is  only 
equalled  by  their  unpleasantness." 

"  I  don't  care.  You  go  on  getting  older 
and  older.  Your  aunt,  who  has  been  good 
to  you  and  of  whom  you  are  fond,  will  be 
very  much  disappointed  in  you.  She  feels 
that  it  is  disgraceful  not  to  marry  and 
criminal  not  to  marry  Lighton,  and  I  am 
strongly  inclined  to  agree  with  her.  So, 
as  the  years  go  by  and  you  get  older  and 
plainer  and  less  desirable  your  aunt  will 
grow  less  and  less  fond  of  you.  You  are 
not  a  great  favourite  with  your  uncle;  to 
be  sure,  he  has  only  one  supreme  favourite 
in  the  universe  and  I  needn't  say  who  that 
is!  —  and  your  aunt  will  probably  die  in 
time.  What  a  happy  home  you  will  have, 
then!  Suppose  on  the  other  hand,  that  he 
should  die.  You  wouldn't  have  money 
enough  to  live  in  that  big  house  and  you 
would  have  to  be  cooped  up  in  a  flat  and 
come  home,  after  teaching  all  day,  to 
listen  to  your  aunt's  lamentations  about 
the  nice  establishment  you  might  have 
had"  — 


VIEWS    OF   TWO    WOMEN     i8i 

"  Thank  fortune  there  are  always  the  poi- 
son and  the  dagger." 

"  There  are;  but  they're  the  refuge  of  the 
coward,  and  ordinary  respectable  people 
don't  commit  suicide,  however  much  they 
want  to.  Now,  having  fully  disposed  of 
that  alternative,  let  us  turn  to  the  other  — 
that  you  marry  some  one  else.  Who  else 
is  there?  You  are  a  general  favourite  and 
lots  of  men  like  to  talk  to  you;  but  who, 
besides  Lighton,  is  in  love  with  you?  I 
mean  of  course,  that  is  in  a  position  to 
marry.  We  will  suppose,  though,  that  you 
have  several  other  proposals  in  the  next 
few  years  —  what  then?  Whom  would  you 
rather  marry?  " 

Lynn  said  nothing  and  turned  her  head 
away. 

"  The  fact  is  that  there  is  no  one  you 
would  rather  marry  and  there  are  very  few 
who  could  offer  you  what  he  does.  The 
trouble  with  you  is  that  you  don't  face 
things.  You  know  that,  if  you  don't  marry 
him,  you  have  nothing  in  life  to  look  for- 
ward to;  yet,  because  it  isn't  an  ideal 
arrangement,  you  refuse  to  consider  it. 
Surely  you  have  outgrown  the  silly,  pretty, 


i82         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

childish  idea  of  marrying  for  love?  Look 
at  the  people  who  do  marry  for  love!  How 
many  of  them  are  as  happy  as  I  am?  I, 
who  deliberately  angled  to  catch  the  richest 
man  of  my  acquaintance  and  did  it.  You 
could  not  have  managed  matters  for  your- 
self in  the  way  that  I  did;  and  then,  Fate, 
instead  of  punishing  you  for  being  stupid, 
offers  you  a  prize  —  and  you  throw  it  away. 
Why?" 

"  It  is  a  little  hard  to  explain  why,  Del," 
returned  her  friend,  slowly.  "  I  don't  know 
whether  I  could  make  you  understand." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  much  heart, 
Lynn,  but  I  have  a  mind.    Try  me." 

"  Long  ago,  then,  I  *  faced  things  '  as  you 
call  it.  I  looked  right  at  them  hard  and 
baldly  and  I  saw  that  Life  is  very  hard  on 
woman.  Life,  Society  —  even  Nature  —  all 
seem  to  be  leagued  against  her.  Her  one 
chance  of  happiness  is  to  make  a  happy  mar- 
riage; and  in  order  to  make  a  happy  mar- 
riage how  many  things  are  needed  —  and 
how  few  are  forthcoming!  Even  then  she 
must  make  up  her  mind  to  face  certain  tor- 
ture and  possible  death;  and  when,  after 
bearing  two  or  three  children,  she  loses  her 


VIEWS    OF   TWO   WOMEN     183 

youth,  her  strength,  her  good  looks,  she  has 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  her  hus- 
band is  as  attractive  as  he  was  the  day  she 
married  him.  So,  practically,  in  the  major- 
ity of  cases,  she  has  nothing  but  her  chil- 
dren. I  am  not  thinking  of  you,  you  mon- 
key; you  are  a  great  exception.  Of  course 
the  children  must  be  worth  a  great  deal 
to  her,  but,  apart  from  them,  the  average 
woman  has  precious  little.  Her  husband  is 
usually  fond  of  her  —  I  am  speaking,  now, 
of  happy  marriages  —  but  all  the  idealism 
and  the  romance  die  very  quickly.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  she  does  as  so  many  do 
and  marries  some  one  who  is  in  love  with 
her  but  for  whom  she  cares  little  —  what 
then?  All  the  usual  hindrances  and  no 
compensations.  There  is  left  only  spinster- 
hood.  Putting  aside  the  lucky  few  who 
have  some  art,  some  profession,  which 
means  everything  to  them,  unmarried 
women  are,  as  you  have  said,  simply  in- 
cumbrances and  not  happy  incumbrances 
at  that.  The  one  happy  thing  for  a  woman 
is  to  fall  in  love  when  she  is  young,  marry 
some  one  who  adores  her,  and  become  so 
absorbed   in   her   children    that   she   won't 


i84         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

mind  the  rest.  Of  course  there  are  a  few 
ideal  marriages  here  and  there;  cases  where 
people  fall  in  love  and  stay  in  love  and  have 
satisfactory  children  and  enjoy  life;  but 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do  how  many  of 
these  there  are.  Four  altogether;  and  I 
have  sometimes  doubted  the  fourth." 

"  Well,  of  all  the  cynics  "  — 

"Not  a  bit  of  it;  I  don't  cherish  useless 
illusions  in  the  face  of  facts,  that's  all. 
Well,  as  I  began  to  say,  long  ago  I  '  faced 
things  '  and  saw  them  as  they  were.  The 
best  thing  to  do  was  to  fall  in  love  and 
make  a  happy  marriage;  that  I  couldn't  do. 
The  next  was  to  marry  some  one  I  didn't 
want,  or  to  do  something  that  would  sup- 
port me,  and  remain  unmarried.  Of  the 
two,  the  last  seemed  the  only  possible  thing. 
I  can  get  along  for  the  present  just  as  I 
am  and  I  do  not  look  into  the  future.  As 
far  as  I  can  see,  it  is  bound  to  be  a  wretched 
one,  anyway;  but  I  may  die  —  a  thousand 
things  may  happen.  In  the  meantime  I 
do  not  worry  because  of  realizing  that  life 
is  a  tragic  thing;  and  I  take  things  very 
coolly  and  don't  make  a  fuss  about  any- 
thing that  can't  be  helped.     When  I  feel 


VIEWS    OF    TWO    WOMEN     185 

down  in  the  mouth  I  always  console  myself 
with  the  reflection,  first,  that  it  can't  last 
forever;  and,  secondly,  that  however  in- 
dustriously Fate  may  knock  me,  she  can't 
compel  me  to  squeal  about  it." 

"  What  a  truly  cheerful  and  comforting 
reflection." 

"  Well,  do  you  know  anyone  more  cheer- 
ful than  I?" 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that  I  do ;  but  appear- 
ances are  certainly  deceptive.  Then  you 
really  prefer  unmarried  unhappiness  to 
married  unhappiness  —  that  is  your  final 
choice?  " 

"  That  is  my  final  choice." 

"  It  is  an  extraordinary  one,  that  is  all  I 
can  say,  when  one  thinks  of  all  the  money 
that  is  thrown  in  with  the  married  unhap- 
piness." 

"  Money  can't  buy  happiness." 

"  No,  but  it  can  buy  some  mighty  good 
substitutes  for  it,  my  dear.  And  as  far  as 
I  can  see,  you  are  not  going  to  get  any- 
thing at  all  with  the  unmarried  unhappi- 
ness." 

"Nothing  at  all?  Freedom,  a  peaceful 
mind    and    an    independent    income.      I'd 


i86  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

rather  have  my  liberty  than  all  the  houses 
in  Christendom  and  all  the  men.  Of  course 
I  am  human;  I  should  prefer  to  make  a 
happy  marriage;  but  how  many  people  do, 
and  why  should  I  be  picked  out  for  a  happy 
fate  when  so  many  kinder  and  better  people 
than  I  have  nothing  but  trouble  from  be- 
ginning to  end  of  their  lives?  No;  I  com- 
plain of  nothing." 

"  Don't  you  think  you  will  be  sorry  for 
this,  some  day?  " 

"  If  I  am,  no  one  will  ever  know  it." 

"  If  you  think  all  this  about  your  future, 
why  do  you  want  to  live?  " 

"I  don't  want  to  live.  Do  you?  Does 
any  mature  person?  But  I  must  live  and 
so  must  you.  There  is  probably  some  rea- 
son for  the  world  and  for  Nature  and  for 
Sin  and  for  all  the  other  queer  works  of 
God  and  of  the  Devil.  Perhaps  we  shall 
find  it  all  out  some  day  and  then  again 
perhaps  we  shall  sleep  so  soundly  that  we 
shall  not  care  to  find  out  anything  at  all. 
That  would  be  nice.  It  would  be  still  nicer, 
though,  to  find  out  that  everything  was 
for  the  best,  really,  and  that  everything 
about  the  world  was  necessary.    '  God's  in 


VIEWS    OF    TWO    WOMEN      187 

his  heaven,  all's  right  with  the  world/  you 
know,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  That 
phrase  about  the  *  best  of  all  possible 
worlds,'  when  applied  to  this,  is  such  rub- 
bish and  such  inhuman  rubbish  at  that; 
such  an  insult  to  the  intelligence  and  hu- 
manity of  mankind;  yet  one  can't  help 
hoping  that  there  will  be  a  '  best  of  all  pos- 
sible worlds '  and  the  mere  fact  that  we 
want  it  and  look  forward  to  it  so  instinct- 
ively shows  that  there  must  be  one,  some- 
where, I  think.    What  do  you  think?" 

"  I  think  I  should  like  to  have  a  brandy 
and  soda,"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell,  forlornly. 
"  Positively  you  have  given  me  the  blues. 
I  do  hate  thinking  of  heaven  and  poets  and 
metaphysics  and  things.  This  earth  is  all 
right  if  you  only  have  sense.  The  trouble 
is,  you  haven't  any.  Oh!  I  have  just 
thought  of  something.  I  have  a  lovely  box 
of  Huyler's  that  I  haven't  touched.  We'll 
eat  that  and  Thomas  shall  light  us  a  little 
fire  and  you  can  have  the  latest  magazine 
and  I'll  read  the  book  of  that  woman's  — 
you  know!  the  one  that  they  are  making 
all  the  fuss  about.  It's  frightfully  amusing 
and  very  improper  and  it  doesn't  make  one 


i88  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

think  the  least  little  bit.  That's  the  sort 
of  book  I  like,  and  it's  the  sort  of  book  most 
people  like,  too,  only  they  won't  say  so. 
Yes,  it  is,  Lynn.  You  needn't  say  it  isn't. 
Else  why  is  it  always  out  at  the  library, 
though  they  have  seven  copies,  and  why  is 
its  author  able  to  travel  all  over  the  world 
on  her  earnings?  You  don't  understand 
human  nature.  All  it  wants  is  to  be  amused 
and  not  to  be  improved.  We  all  like  to 
slide  down  hill,  comfortably,  without  being 
obliged  to  climb  up  again.  And  we  would 
all  slide  down  much  faster  if  it  wasn't  that 
the  company  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  is  so 
unpleasant  and  the  people  at  the  top  throw 
things  at  you  and  you  can't  throw  them 
back.  And  the  reason  that  the  people  at 
the  top  throw  things  is  that  they  are  so 
cross  because  they  don't  really  like  being 
stuck  up  there  and  they  have  to  pretend 
they  do." 

"  Well,  you're  not  at  all  cross,  yet,  Del, 
and  you  haven't  slid  down  hill  very  fast," 
said  Lynn,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have.  Anyway  I  didn't  have 
far  to  slide  from.  I  began  pretty  low  down, 
you  know.     Oh,  I  have  no  illusions  about 


VIEWS    OF    TWO    WOMEN      189 

myself.  But,  even  so  I  have  slidden.  But 
you  see,  if  you  are  clad  in  gold  armour, 
you  can  slide  as  much  as  you  like;  for  that 
renders  you  bullet-proof.  If  I  were  a 
nursery-governess  slaving  over  spoilt  brats 
for  the  sake  of  getting  a  miserable  living, 
I  should  be  thought  a  very  shady  character. 
Just  suppose  I  had  said  what  I  said  just 
now  about  only  liking  improper  things  that 
didn't  make  me  think!  Why,  I  should  be 
turned  out  of  doors  without  a  character, 
I  suppose.  But  I  am  Mrs.  Henry  Hadwell 
and  so  I  can  slide  just  as  much  as  I  please 
—  within  limits.  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well 
that  there  are  limits  to  everything.  Other- 
wise I  dare  say  I  should  be  even  worse  than 
I  am.  And  I'm  pretty  bad,  you  know.  I 
haven't  any  conscience  and  very  little  affec- 
tion. And  I  have  no  ideals.  But  then,  as 
I  said  before,  I  have  dinners  —  lovely  din- 
ners! How  glad  I  am  to  think  that  I  am 
going  to  have  another  one  to-morrow. 
Some  way,  when  I  think  of  that,  I  quite  for- 
get all  the  horrid  things  you  have  put  into 
my  head  to-night.  Just  think !  I  —  I  might 
have  been  a  nursery-governess.  If  I  hadn't 
brains    or   industry    enough    to    become    a 


I90  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

teacher.  Ugh!  Oh,  what  horrible  lives 
there  are  in  the  world  and  how  lovely  to 
think  that  I  have  a  lovely  home  and  a  do- 
ting husband  and  three  darling  children 
and  my  dinners!  What  are  you  thinking 
about,  now?  '* 

"  I  was  just  thinking  that  we  were  aw- 
fully like  the  lower  animals,  really,"  replied 
Lynn,  with  a  half-laugh.  "  A  little  more 
complex,  but  just  about  like  them,  other- 
wise. What  does  the  average  bear  want? 
A  mate,  cubs,  —  and  dinners.  If  he  gets 
them  he  is  happy;  if  he  doesn't,  he  is  mis- 
erable. If  Bob  could  talk,  he  would  say 
just  about  what  you  have  been  saying, 
now." 

"  Bob  is  a  sensible  dog,"  said  Mrs.  Had- 
well,  solemnly.  "  I  don't  like  dogs  and  I 
do  like  you  but  justice  compels  me  to  state 
that  Bob  has  a  lot  more  sense  than  you 
have.  Never  mind !  you  will  get  wise  when 
it  is  too  late  and  then  you  will  wish  that 
you  had  had  the  sense  to  imitate  me  and 
Bob  and  all  the  other  practical  people  in 
the  world.  You  needn't  think  I  mind  being 
called  a  lower  animal.  If  being  a  lower 
animal  means  getting  what  you  want  and 


VIEWS    OF    TWO    WOMEN      191 

being  a  higher  animal  means  getting  what 
you  don't  want,  —  well,  I  want  to  be  a 
lower  animal,  thank  you!  Lynn!  these 
marron  glaces  are  simply  the  most  delicious 
things  you  ever  thought  of.    Do  have  one !  " 


CHAPTER    XIII 

REJECTED   ADDRESSES 

"The  Heart's  Desire  hath  led  me 
In  barren  lands  and  vain." 

—  Theodosia  Garrison. 

I  SUPPOSE   it   sounds   brutal   to   say 
so,"    said    Lynn    Thayer,    "  but    you 
know   you    ought    really   to   be   very 
grateful  to  me  for  refusing  you.     You  will 
thank  me  for  it,  ten  years  hence." 

Mr.  Harold  Lighton,  who  was  sitting  op- 
posite, frowned  angrily  and  made  no  re- 
sponse. 

"  We  are  not  in  the  least  suited  to  one 
another,"  she  continued,  gently.  "  You  — 
I  would  make  you  very  unhappy.  You  are 
young  and  rich,  and  when  you  get  over  this, 
you  will  be  able  to  marry  some  nice,  young, 
pretty  girl." 

"  I  don't  want  a  nice,  young,  pretty  girl," 
returned  Mr.  Lighton,  glumly.  "  I  want 
you." 

192 


REJECTED    ADDRESSES         193 

Lynn's  eyes  suddenly  danced  but  she 
very  properly  refrained  from  comment. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  won't  you  think  this  over?" 
burst  forth  Mr.  Lighten,  quite  unconscious 
of  the  doubtful  compliment  he  had  just  paid 
the  object  of  his  affections.  "  I'm  most  aw- 
fully in  love  with  you,  indeed  I  am.  You 
know  that,  don't  you?  " 

"  I  know  that  you  think  you  are  in  love 
with  me,  just  now,"  answered  Lynn, 
gravely.  "  But,  in  my  twenty-eight  years 
of  life,  quite  a  few  people  have  told  me  that 
they  were  in  love  with  me  and  would  never 
be  happy  without  me.  And  they  have  mar- 
ried some  one  else  in  a  few  years'  time  and 
have  never  thought  of  me,  again." 

"  I'm  not  like  that,"  said  Mr.  Lighton, 
eagerly.  "  Upon  my  soul,  I'm  not.  You 
may  think  I'm  fickle  or  easily  suited.  I'm 
not.  I  don't  like  anybody  but  you  and  I 
never  will.  It  seems  pretty  hard  when  a 
fellow's  waited  until  over  thirty  before  he 
has  run  across  any  one  he  fancied  —  and 
then  to  be  turned  down,  after  all." 

"  It  has  happened  before." 

"  Why,  no,  it  hasn't ! "  said  Lighton,  in- 
dignantly. 


194         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  I  mean  to  other  people." 

"  Oh!  See  here,  why  won't  you  have  me? 
I  suppose  I'm  not  clever  enough  for  you. 
Is  that  the  trouble?" 

"  No,  no  indeed.  I'm  stupid,  myself, 
frightfully  stupid  in  lots  of  ways.  That 
isn't  it,  at  all.  It's  just  that  I  don't  care 
enough  about  you." 

Mr.  Lighton  regarded  her  with  some  per- 
plexity. 

"  I  say  —  I'd  like  awfully  to  say  some- 
thing if  you  won't  think  it  rude." 

"Very  well  — what  is  it?" 

"  You're  twenty-eight  —  you  don't  mind 
my  mentioning  it,  do  you?"  queried  Mr. 
Lighton,  tactfully.  "  You've  always  spoken 
so  openly  of  it,  yourself." 

"  Oh,  I  can  never  keep  even  the  most 
damaging  facts  about  myself  hidden,"  said 
Lynn,  solemnly. 

"Eh?  — what's  that?  Oh,  well,  never 
mind!  What  I  wanted  to  say  was  this: 
Don't  you  mean  to  marry?" 

"  I  haven't  quite  made  up  my  mind,  yet. 
Perhaps  I  may  marry  somebody  a  few 
years   hence  —  but   not   you,"   she   hastily 


REJECTED    ADDRESSES         195 

added,  seeing  Mr.  Lighton  look  up  with 
sudden  interest. 

"Why  not  me?" 

"  I  have  told  you  twenty  times  over  why 
not." 

"And  you're  serious  about  it?  You're 
sure  you  won't  change  your  mind?  Well, 
what  I  wanted  to  say  was  this.  Suppose, 
a  few  years  hence  when  you've  decided  that 
you  will  marry  —  now,  you  won't  be  of- 
fended?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  will.  What  you  want 
to  say  is,  what  will  I  do  if  no  one  wants 
to  marry  me,  then?  " 

"  Yes,"  confessed  Mr.  Lighton,  looking  a 
little  embarrassed  but  sticking  to  his  guns, 
manfully.  "  You're  an  awfully  stunning 
girl,  but  a  girl  often  doesn't  get  another 
offer  after  thirty;   and  what  if  you  don't?" 

"  I  won't  marry." 

"But  — but" — 

"  I  won't  marry,  anyway,  unless  I  see 
some  one  I  like  better  than  I  do  you,"  said 
Lynn,  deliberately.  "  It  is  best  to  be  ex- 
plicit, isn't  it?  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you, 
but  this  is  the  plain  truth  of  the  matter. 


196  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

The  idea  of  marrying  just  for  the  sake  of 
being  called  '  Mrs.'  doesn't  appeal  to  me, 
at  all;  and  I  could  not  marry  you  for  any 
other  reason.  Oh  yes,  of  course  I  might 
marry  you  for  the  sake  of  living  in  a  nice 
house  and  getting  my  clothes  in  Paris;  but 
I  don't  care  much  about  that,  either.  You 
see  what  I  mean?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see.  I  thought,  some  way  — 
you  see  I  have  a  fairly  good  income  and 
you're  fond  of  horses  "  — 

"  You  thought  I  might  marry  you  for  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  something  of  your  horses; 
is  that  it?" 

"Oh,  I  say.  Miss  Thayer,  let  up!  It's 
bad  enough  to  be  refused  without  being 
made  game  of." 

"  I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Lynn,  slowly.  She 
looked  at  him  as  though  a  new  idea  had 
occurred  to  her.  "  I  wonder  why  you  want 
to  marry  me,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Why  I  want  to  marry  you?  " 

"  Yes.  I'm  not  very  young,  I'm  not  at 
all  pretty  and  I  have  no  money.  It  seems 
a  most  curious  thing  that  you  should  have 
taken  this  violent  fancy  to  me.  Why  did 
you?    Do  you  know?  " 


REJECTED    ADDRESSES         197 

"  I  say !  you  are  a  queer  girl." 

"  In  other  words  I'm  not  a  sheep,"  re- 
turned Lynn,  composedly.  "  Don't  you 
think  most  people  are  very  like  sheep?  They 
travel  in  flocks  and  all  bleat  in  unison  at 
the  same  things  and  get  up  in  the  morning 
and  eat  and  drink  and  go  to  sleep,  again 
—  and,  in  time,  they  die.  I  suppose  they 
might  as  w^ell  be  doing  that  as  something 
else,  but  if  it  amuses  me  to  do  something 
else,  why  shouldn't  I?  Now,  for  instance, 
if  I  had  been  a  well-regulated,  conventional 
sheep  I  should  have  bleated  out,  *  Oh,  Mr. 
Lighton,  this  is  so  sudden!'  and  then  I 
should  have  thought  lovingly  of  your  good 
house  and  your  nice  furniture  and  should 
have  simpered  and  accepted  you.  But,  not 
being  a  sheep,  I  want  to  know  why  on  earth 
you  did  it." 

"  Because  I  —  like  you  so  awfully,"  ex- 
plained Mr.  Lighton,  eagerly. 

"  But  why  on  earth  should  you  like  me?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Lighton,  doubt- 
fully. "Why  does  any  one  like  you?"  he 
inquired,  brightening.  "  You've  had  lots  of 
other  chaps." 

"Oh,  but  that's  diflFerent.     You  see  I'm 


198  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

a  man's  woman  by  instinct  and  training. 
I  do  my  very  utmost  to  please  and  be  nice 
to  every  man  I  meet  except  you;  and  the 
consequence  is  that  they  all  like  me  and  the 
ones  who  like  me  enough  to  call  on  me, 
often,  usually  end  by  proposing:  not  be- 
cause I'm  so  remarkably  attractive  but  for 
the  reason  that  a  man,  for  some  occult  rea- 
son, cannot  see  much  of  a  woman  without 
proposing  to  her." 

"  I  say!    You're  gassing!  " 

"  I'm  not.  But  the  queer  thing  is  that 
you  took  this  fancy  to  me  at  the  very  start 
without  any  help  whatever  from  me." 

"  What  a  funny  girl  you  are  to  give  your- 
self away  like  that.  Girls  generally  say 
that  they  don't  encourage  anybody." 

"  Yes,  but,  as  you  remarked,  I  am  a 
funny  girl;  I  tell  the  truth,  sometimes. 
How  do  you  suppose  a  plain,  poor  person 
like  me  would  ever  have  had  so  many  men 
friends  if  she  hadn't  done  something?  It's 
wonderful,"  said  Lynn,  meditatively,  "  won- 
derful! how  easy  it  is  to  fascinate  men. 
Just  look  at  each  man  and  talk  to  him  as 
if  you  thought  he  was  the  most  handsome, 
brilliant  and  fascinating  creature  extant  — 


REJECTED   ADDRESSES         199 

and  the  thing  is  done!  The  man  doesn't 
live  who  can  resist  it." 

"  Ha,  ha !   you  are  funny." 

"  Yes.  I  can  remember  when  I  was  a 
young  girl  that  I  used  to  be  terribly  afraid 
that  no  one  would  ever  fall  in  love  with 
me  because  I  was  so  ugly.  I  used  to  wish 
so  that  I  had  curling  eyelashes  and  rose- 
leaf  complexions  and  things:  and,  lo  and 
behold!  before  I  was  eighteen  the  great 
beautiful  truth  dawned  upon  me.  Just  let 
a  man  talk  about  himself  until  he  is  black 
in  the  face  and  he  will  never  tire  of  your 
society,  no  matter  what  you  look  like. 
Nothing  else  is  necessary.  A  man  thinks 
any  eyes  gazing  admiringly  into  his  are 
beautiful  eyes:  he  considers  any  voice  that 
murmurs  timely  flatteries  in  his  good  right 
ear  a  sweet  voice:  and  any  woman  with 
intelligence  enough  to  laugh  heartily  at  his 
stale  jokes  and  listen  respectfully  to  his  dull 
anecdotes,  has  all  the  intelligence  that  any 
female  needs,  in  his  opinion.  So  there  you 
are.  Having  this  knowledge,  what  else  did 
I  lack?  I  promptly  became  a  belle  of  the 
first  water  and  have  remained  so  for  ten 
years.     Pretty  girls  have  lost  their  beauty, 


200         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

rich  girls  have  lost  their  money,  lively  girls 
have  lost  their  vivacity;  but  I  remain  per- 
ennially attractive  because  I  have  grasped 
the  great  truth  that  every  man  prefers  him- 
self to  anything  else  on  earth  and,  next  to 
himself,  admires  the  woman  w^ho  acts  as 
though  she  agreed  with  him.  I'm  in  a  can- 
did mood  to-night,  am  I  not,  Mr.  Lighton? 
What  is  the  matter?  you  don't  look  very 
happy." 

"  I  can't  help  wondering,"  confessed  Mr. 
Lighton,  rather  ruefully,  "  why,  if  you're 
so  fond  of  having  men  like  you,  you've 
never  been  nicer  to  me." 

"  Because,"  she  returned,  slowly,  "  I  very 
soon  received  the  impression  that  you  were 
more  or  less  in  earnest.  Now  my  puppy 
days  have  passed  and  I  take  no  pleasure  in 
causing  pain;  and  it  must  be  more  or  less 
painful  to  want  some  one  who  doesn't  care 
anything  about  you.  So  I  thought  it  best 
to  be  flippant  and  unpleasant  in  the  hope 
that  you  would  get  disgusted.  Why  didn't 
you?" 

"  I  —  I  don't  know  "  — 

"  Yes,  I've  been  most  hateful,"  continued 
Lynn,  thoughtfully.    "  I  wonder  if  it  would 


REJECTED    ADDRESSES         201 

do  any  good  if  I  were  to  tell  you  all  the 
harsh  things  I've  said  about  you  to  Aunt 
Lucy." 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  Mr.  Lighton,  ha- 
stily and  firmly,  "  that  it  would  do  a  bit  of 
good." 

"  Then  I  won't.  But  will  you  tell  me  just 
as  a  matter  of  curiosity  —  what  it  was  that 
you  liked  about  me?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,"  her  companion  said, 
pondering,  "  I  suppose  I  liked  you  because 
you  didn't  chase  me  and  it  was  such  a 
change.  You  see  when  a  fellow  has  a  good 
position  and  money  coming  to  him "  — 
He  wiped  his  forehead  and  looked  scared 
and  reminiscent. 

"  I  see,"  exclaimed  Lynn.  "  I  must  make 
a  note  of  that.  There  are  men  who  tire  of 
being  '  chased.'  Then  there  must  be  men 
who  tire  of  tobacco,  I  suppose." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Mr. 
Lighton,  dubiously.  "  You  see,  when  one 
has  smoked  long  enough,  one  can  always 
throw  one's  cigar  out  of  the  window.  So 
one  doesn't  get  as  sick  of  it  as  one  does  of 
women." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not.    I  never  thought  of 


202  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

that,"  said  Lynn,  gravely.  "  Well,  let  me 
see!  you  liked  me  in  the  first  place  because 
I  didn't  *  chase '  you:  and  why  did  you 
like  me,  in  the  second?" 

"  You're  a  fine  sport,"  said  Mr.  Lighton, 
pondering,  '*  you're  always  ready  for  any 
thing,  and  you  dance  like  a  streak,  and 
you're  never  tired,  and  you  do  make  a  fel- 
low roar  so.    I  suppose  that's  why." 

"  So  these  are  my  assets.  Dancing  like 
a  *  streak  '  —  whatever  that  may  be :  al- 
ways being  ready  to  skate  and  toboggan: 
and  '  making  a  fellow  roar  so.'  It  doesn't 
sound  attractive:  however  I  never  pre- 
tended to  understand  men.  What  a  funny 
thing  it  is!  No  money,  no  beauty,  no  par- 
ticular brains  and  one  of  the  most  eligible 
young  men  in  the  city  begging  me  to  marry 
him!" 

"  Your  aunt  likes  me,"  said  Mr.  Lighton. 

"  She  likes  you  very  much ;  but  she  al- 
ways confuses  you  with  the  new  plumbing 
and  the  electric  lights  in  your  house.  She 
can't  conceive  how  I  can  withstand  such 
fascinations.  Poor  Aunt  Lucy!  I  wish  I 
were  a  little  more  satisfactory:  but  I  really 
cannot  fall  in  love  to  order  even  to  please 


REJECTED    ADDRESSES         203 

her  —  not  with  a  whole  galaxy  of  electric 
lights." 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  you're  driv- 
ing at,"  said  Mr.  Lighten,  looking  sullen, 
"but  I  think  your  aunt's  a  very  sensible 
woman." 

"  So  do  I.  I  only  wish  I  were  half  as 
sensible.  I'm  a  great  grief  to  her.  You 
see,  she  feels  rightly  that  a  single  woman 
with  no  independent  income  should  strug- 
gle valiantly  to  avert  the  awful  doom  of 
old  maid.  Now,  the  deeper  I  sink  in  the 
mire  of  old-maiden-hood,  the  less  I  strug- 
gle." 

"  Is  your  aunt  very  fond  of  you?  "  asked 
Mr.  Lighton  curiously. 

"  No.  She  is  much  pleased  at  my  popu- 
larity, which  she  doesn't  understand  in  the 
least,  and  she  regards  it  in  the  light  of  a 
personal  reward  for  her  goodness  in  adopt- 
ing me.    That  is  all." 

"And  your  uncle?  You  don't  mind  my 
asking,  do  you?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  My  uncle  hates  me,  but  he 
thinks  I'm  a  good  girl  and  tries  not  to  show 
it  more  than  he  can  help.  You  see  he  can't 
endure  children  and  he  is  prejudiced  against 


204  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

me  because  I  was  a  child  when  he  first 
knew  me  and  he  has  never  forgotten  it." 

"  Then  I  suppose  you're  not  awfully  fond 
of  them?" 

"I  am  —  most  grateful  to  them,  both: 
but  I  do  not  love  them.  I  have  never  really 
loved  but  one  person  in  my  life  —  no,  two. 
The  first  love  is  much  stronger  than  the 
second:  but  the  second  is  —  profound  and 
lasting.  I  am  not  an  affectionate  person: 
I  do  not  suppose  that  there  will  ever  be 
more  than  just  those  two." 

"  Neither  of  them's  me,"  interposed  Mr. 
Lighton,  gloomily  and  ungrammatically. 

"  Neither  of  them's  you,  no,"  returned 
Lynn,  firmly. 

"  Oh,  look  here.  Miss  Thayer,  can*t  you 
reconsider  it?  I'm  —  I'm  most  awfully  in 
love  with  you,  upon  my  word  I  am :  and  — 
and,  after  all,  —  I  don't  like  to  say  this  ex- 
actly —  but  you  know  I  can  give  you  every- 
thing you  want  and  —  don't  you  like  the 
idea  of  having  a  little  money?" 

"  Immensely." 

"  Then  " 

"  But,  unfortunately  I  do  not  like  the 
idea  of  having  you.     There  is  the   plain 


REJECTED    ADDRESSES         205 

English  of  it.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  your 
feeHngs,  but  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any 
way  of  making  you  understand." 

"Oh,  I  understand,  all  right!"  muttered 
Mr.  Lighton,  ruefully.  "  But  I  can't  say 
I'm  pleased.  You  might  have  given  me  a 
hint  before  letting  me  make  a  fool  of  my- 
self." 

"  A  hint !  Man !  how  many  hints  have  I 
given  you?  " 

"  A  dev —  I  mean  a  great  many,"  re- 
turned the  consistent  Mr.  Lighton.  "  But 
I  thought  you  were  trying  to  draw  me  on." 

"  I  have  no  talents  for  man-hunting," 
said  Lynn,  rather  crossly.  "  I  never  try  to 
'  draw  people  on  '  or  anything  like  that.  It 
does  not  amuse  me:  I'm  a  man's  woman  in 
one  sense  but  I  am  not  a  flirt " 

"  Flirt !  You  can't  flirt  any  more  than 
—  than  that  mantelpiece,"  said  Mr.  Ligh- 
ton, desperately.  "  But  I  like  you  —  I  can't 
help  liking  you,  some  way." 

"  No  —  I  suppose  you  can't  —  not  just 
at  present,  anyway.  But  you'll  get  over  it 
in  time." 

Mr.  Lighton  said  nothing,  but  his  face 
was  not  cheerful. 


2o6         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  I  have  a  good  mind,"  said  Lynn,  slowly, 
"  to  tell  you  something  about  myself  — 
something  that  will  show  you  the  hopeless- 
ness of  asking  me.  It  is  this:  even  if  I 
liked  you  very  much  I  couldn't  marry  you." 

"But  why?" 

"  Because  —  because  I  have  a  duty  to 
perform;  a  duty  which  demands  all  my 
time  and  strength  and  —  and  thought;  and 
which  marriage  would  interfere  with." 

"  But  —  but  do  you  mean  that  you  are 
going  to  perform  this  duty  —  whatever  it 
may  be  —  all  your  life?  " 

"  N-n-no.  In  a  few  years  —  perhaps 
sooner  —  it  will  be  —  finished." 

"And  then?" 

"And  then  —  oh,  don't  talk  about  it!  I 
was  foolish  to  speak  about  it,  anyway  — 
but,  do  you  know,  I  felt  sorry  for  you.  I 
can't  understand  why  people  like  having 
proposals  from  people  they  don't  want  to 
marry.  It  always  seems  to  me  such  a  pity 
that  anything  should  be  wasted,  that  any 
feeling  should  burn  itself  out,  without  re- 
sult. That  may  be  a  queer  way  to  look 
at  it  —  but  I  suppose  I  am  queer.     People 


REJECTED    ADDRESSES         207 

seem  to  think  so  and,  perhaps,  they  are 
right." 

"  Well,  I'd  better  go,  I  suppose,"  said 
Lighton,  gruffly,  after  a  short  pause.  "  If 
anything  turns  up  —  I  mean,  if  you  should 
change  your  mind,  you  know,  or  anything 
like  that  —  why  "  — 

"Thank  you;  but  I  never  shall.  Good- 
night, Mr.  Lighton.  I'm  sorry,  really  I  am. 
It  all  seems  too  bad,  but  you  know  it's  not 
my  fault." 

Left  to  herself,  she  drew  a  long  sigh; 
then  rose  and  moved  about  the  room  me- 
chanically straightening  the  furniture  and 
patting  the  sofa  cushions.  Finally  she 
leaned  her  elbows  on  the  mantelpiece  and 
gazed  earnestly  into  the  mirror,  above. 
"  Curious  what  he  sees  in  me !  "  she  said, 
slowly.  "  Curious  what  anyone  sees  in  me! 
I  have  nothing  to  recommend  me  in  the 
way  of  looks;  it  is  hard  to  understand.  In 
spite  of  all  that  I  have  done  for  —  for  the 
boy,  he  —  he  doesn't  really  care  very  much 
about  me,  even  now.  And  yet  this  man  — 
whom  I  have  done  everything  to  discour- 
age"— 


2o8         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

She  stared  slowly  at  herself:  then  turned 
away. 

"  Time  to  go  to  bed,"  she  said,  reluc- 
tantly. "  And  high  time  to  stop  —  think- 
ing. .  .  .  Oh,  Liol,  Liol,  Liol ! " 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A  DECISION   TO   BE  REACHED 

"'Tis  an  awkward  thing  to  play  with  souls, 
And  matter  enough  to  save  one's  own." 

—'Browning. 

MR.  ALBERT  and  Miss  Bertha  Had- 
well  having  arrived  at  Hadwell 
Heights  their  aunt  had  promptly 
issued  invitations  for  the  "  bridge "  of 
which  she  had  spoken  at  her  "  tea."  Had- 
well Heights  was  "  en  fete."  The  guests 
had  arrived  and  were  playing,  busily, 
though  not  for  money.  Apart  from  the 
fact  that  the  guests  of  honour  were  young, 
Mrs.  Hadwell  disapproved  of  "bridge- 
gambling." 

"  I  never  win  at  games,"  she  confided  to 
Lynn.  "  And  I  don't  enjoy  losing  money 
even  if  I  can  afford  it.  And  it's  such  a 
nice,  cheap  way  of  getting  a  reputation  for 
steadiness  and  sobriety  and  high  morality 
and  all  that.    I  love  to  be  known  for  things 

209 


2IO  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

that  I  haven't  even  a  bowing  acquaintance 
with.  And  it  seems  so  deHcious  to  say  with 
a  perfectly  straight  face,  *  No,  I  never  play 
for  money.  I  don't  approve  of  it.'  It 
seems  such  a  rebuke  to  the  worldly-minded 
and  the  frivolous  and  all  that  lot." 

Mrs.  Hadwell,  though,  might  be  de- 
pended upon  to  furnish  very  pretty  prizes. 
Besides  which  her  house  was  famed  for  its 
delightful  entertainments  of  all  descrip- 
tions. For  which  reasons,  and  for  several 
others,  her  pretty  drawing-room  was 
thronged. 

Lynn  Thayer  had  refused  to  play,  offer- 
ing to  bear  her  hostess  company,  however, 
and  to  help  her  in  any  way  she  could.  She 
sat  now  in  an  alcove  of  the  great  old-fash- 
ioned bay  -  window,  watching  the  players 
absently,  and  trying  to  straighten  out  sev- 
eral matters  which  threatened  to  become 
hopelessly  entangled  in  her  mind.  This 
was  hardly  the  place  to  solve  these  prob- 
lems, but,  as  they  became  daily  and  hourly 
more  imminent,  she  felt  that  she  might  as 
well  face  them  at  one  time  as  at  another, 
so  far  as  she  was  able. 

Her  reflections   chimed   oddly  with   the 


A   DECISION  211 

scraps  of  conversation  which  were  wafted 
to  her  ears  from  time  to  time. 

"  What  shall  I  say  if  Gerald  does  ask  me 
to  marry  him  ?  "  she  thought,  her  face  dark- 
ening. "How  can  I  accept  him?  And 
then  again  —  how  can  I  refuse  him?  If 
he  would  only  wait  —  but  it  is  not  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  he  would.  How  can 
I  —  how  shall  I  answer  him?" 

"  We-11,"  interposed  a  voice,  faintly,  "  I 
make  it  diamonds." 

"Oh,  why,  Mrs.  Hall?" 

"Oh,  did  you  have  a  good  suit?  Oh, 
dear!  well,  never  mind!  —  I  suppose  we 
can't  take  it  back,  can  we?  —  no?  well,  I 
suppose  not.    That's  the  worst  of  "  — 

"He  must  have  meant  that;  he  can't 
have  meant  anything  else.  Of  course  I 
have  always  known,  but  I  thought  I  could 
keep  it  off  a  little  longer.  And  I  didn't 
realize  till  lately  how  much  it  would  mean 
to  me  if  —  I  can't  give  him  up.  No,  I  can't 
give  him  up.  Yet  how  can  I  do  anything 
else  under  the  circumstances?  Could  I  ex- 
plain in  any  way  —  give  him  any  inkling 
of  my  position?   no,  I  don't  see  how"  — 

"Oh,    are    we    playing    'no    trumps*? 


212         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Why,  I  didn't  know  that.  Why  didn't  you 
tell  me  when  you  saw  me  playing  out  my 
king  and  ace  "  — 

"  He  has  no  idea  —  naturally  it  will  seem 
incomprehensible  to  him  if  I  say  that  I  do 
care  for  him  but  that  I  can't  marry  him  for 
years.  If  I  were  five  years  younger;  but, 
even  so  —  no,  I  cannot  say  that.  What 
can  I  say?  If  I  ask  him  to  trust  me  and 
to  let  me  tell  him  when  I  shall  be  free  to 
give  him  my  answer  —  no,  the  case  is  hope- 
less. I  had  better  tell  him  baldly  and 
plainly  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  marry 
—  and  then?"  — 

"Not  at  all,  Mrs.  Willing,  not  at  all. 
Of  course  it  was  my  trick  already  but  I 
saw  that  you  hadn't  noticed  that  —  why, 
don't  think  of  it  for  a  moment.  Of  course, 
generally  speaking,  it  isn't  supposed  to  be 
a  good  thing  to  trump  your  partner's  trick, 
but "  — 

"  He  is  not  the  sort  of  man  to  let  it  rest 
there;  he  will  ask  questions,  all  sorts  of 
questions,  he  will  insist  on  knowing  what 
I  mean,  what  I  intend  to  do.  How  will 
it  end?  The  only  thing  that  he  can  never 
think  of  is   the  truth.     He   will   think  of 


A    DECISION  213 

everything  else  under  the  sun.  Oh,  the 
thing  is  too  hopeless!  I  shall  have  to  let 
him  think  that  I  don't  care  for  him  —  oh, 
but  if  I  do  that  he  will  go  away,  I  shall  not 
see  him  again;  in  time  he  will  marry  some 
one  else  —  how  could  I  bear  that?  He 
must  not  go.  I'll  say  anything,  anything, 
short  of  giving  my  secret  away.  Ah,  that 
horrible  oath!  So  needless,  so  useless!  and 
to  think  that,  on  top  of  all  the  rest,  this 
should  come!  and  that  I  may  be  compelled 
to  give  up  my  only  chance  of  happiness  in 
the  future.  I  won't  give  it  up!  I  won't! 
Life  is  too  cruel.  I'll  do  anything  to  pre- 
vent him  leaving  me.  And  then  there  is 
not  only  my  pain  if  he  did  —  but  he  would 
suffer,  too.  No,  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of 
for  a  moment.     He  must  stay." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  really  shouldn't  have 
thrown  away  my  ace  when  hearts  hadn't 
been  played  at  all,  but  then  you  know  I 
never  stick  to  rules." 

"  If  only  he  hadn't  written  that  note, 
asking  to  see  me  to-night.  If  only  I  could 
have  put  off  answering  him  a  little  longer. 
If  I  refuse  to  let  him  go  home  with  me  it 
will   be   equivalent .  to   refusing   him,   alto- 


214  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

gether.  It  is  out  of  the  question.  I  must 
settle  it  one  way  or  another  at  once.  What 
is  it  to  be?" 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  the  queen  hasn't  been 
played,  yet?  Why,  I  thought  it  was  out 
ages  ago  —  oh,  I  really  think  I  ought  to 
have  that  back  "  — 

"  What  will  he  say  when  I  answer  him 
—  that  is,  if  I  tell  him  the  truth?  How 
will  it  sound?  *I  do  care  for  you  but  I 
can't  marry  you  just  now,  perhaps  not  for 
several  years,  I  can't  say  exactly  when.' 
The  thing  is  incredible.  A  woman  of  my 
age,  presumably  sane,  to  answer  a  pro- 
posal of  marriage  in  that  fashion.  Ah,  if 
only  I  were  indifferent  to  him  how  easy 
things  would  be;  and  yet  what  would  I 
have  then  in  life?  When  Liol  —  dies  —  oh, 
I  can't  think  of  that!  Where  is  he  to-night, 
I  wonder?  What  is  he  doing?  Liol,  Liol! 
if  only  you  were  dead!  and  yet,  oh,  I  can't 
wish  that.  What  will  my  life  be  when  he 
is  gone?  Gone!  Think  of  it!  How  can  I 
marry,  then?  what  will  my  life  be  worth? 
how  shall  I  live  and  hide  my  grief?  oh, 
Liol,  Liol!" 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Coote !  where  were 


A   DECISION  215 

your  eyes?    Didn't  you  know  that  the  nine 
of  clubs  wasn't  out?" 

"One  thing  is  certain;  much  as  I  love 
Gerald,  nothing  and  nobody  can  ever  be 
to  me  what  Liol  was  and  is.  Is  that  very 
strange?  am  I  entirely  different  to  all  other 
girls.  How  could  any  strange  man,  how- 
ever dear,  be  as  much  in  your  life  as  a 
person  like  Liol,  with  whom  your  very 
heart-strings  were  entwined;  who  came 
when  your  heart  was  empty  and  filled  it? 
My  Lionel!  my  little  brother!  my  last 
charge  from  my  dead  mother!  Oh,  if  the 
years  could  only  be  wiped  out  and  if  I 
could  see  him  again  as  he  once  was,  the 
same  sweet  dear  child,  how  happily  I  could 
die  —  yes,  how  happily  I  could  give  up 
everything  —  Gerald,  everything.  But  —  I 
must  live;  and  Lionel  is  —  oh,  I  can't  say, 
I  can't  think  what  he  is;  and  he  is  dying 
by  inches;  and  there  is  only  one  other  per- 
son in  the  world  for  whom  I  care,  only  one 
other  person  for  whom  I  ever  shall  care 
but  him;  and  I  may  have  to  give  him  up. 
If  only  Lionel  didn't  need  me  so;  if  only 
he  didn't  need  all  my  money,  all  my 
thought,  all  my  care  —  imagine  my  desert- 


2i6  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

ing  him  and  starting  to  choose  a  trousseau. 
A  trousseau!  when  any  day  he  may  need 
a  shroud." 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts,  Lynn." 

Mrs.  Hadwell  had  come  up,  unnoticed 
and  was  standing  at  Lynn's  side. 

"  Did  I  startle  you?  "  she  asked,  brightly. 
"  You  were  looking  straight  in  front  of  you 
like  Cassandra  or  Joan  of  Arc  or  some 
other  unpleasant  historical  character.  What 
was  it?    Indigestion?" 

"  A  fit  of  the  blues,  perhaps,"  said  Lynn. 
"  Don't  mind  me,  Del.  It  was  most  un- 
grateful of  me  to  cast  a  shade  over  the 
festivities  and,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
wasn't  aware  that  I  was  doing  it.  Who 
has  the  highest  score?  " 

"  Erma  Reed,  so  far.  Isn't  she  a  beauty? 
Lynn,  what's  the  matter  with  you?" 

"  Nothing,  silly!  —  that  is,  nothing  much. 
You  know  we  all  get  a  little  despondent  at 
times." 

"  But  not  you,  that  is,  not  until  lately. 
What  has  come  over  you?" 

"  Age,  I  suppose." 

"  If  you  don't  want  to  confide  in  me, 
don't -^'' 


A   DECISION  217 

"I  don't!" 

— "  But  I  think  it's  most  unkind,  when 
I  always  tell  you  everything." 

"  There's  nothing  that  I  can  confide  in 
you,  silly-billy ! "  said  Lynn,  rousing  her- 
self and  speaking  with  forced  cheerfulness. 
"  Nothing  in  the  world.  Now,  will  that 
satisfy  you?  You  know  practically  all  my 
affairs  except  those  which  concern  other 
people  and  which  I  have  promised  not  to 
tell." 

"Is  that  true?" 

"  There  is  just  one  thing  which  I  might 
tell  you  —  but,  after  all,  it's  nothing  to 
tell "  — 

"Oh,  what  is  it?" 

"  A  man  —  but  this  is  silly  for  there  is 
really  nothing  to  tell  and,  anyway,  I  don't 
want  to  discuss  it." 

"  How  logical  you  are,"  said  Mrs.  Had- 
well,  calmly.  "  But  I  know  all  about  that, 
so  you  needn't  bother.  He  is  going  to 
propose  to-night,  he  told  me  so.  And  he 
begged  me  to  make  sure  that  he  wasn't 
deputed  to  take  anyone  else  home,  as  you 
had  not  answered  his  note  and  so  he 
couldn't  be  sure  "  — 


2i8  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"He  told  you!  How  queer!  How  very 
unlike  him!  " 

"  I  skated  with  him  to-day  and  we  had 
tea  together.  And  you  know  how  I  can 
always  make  any  man  tell  me  the  inmost 
secret  of  his  heart  if  I  can  once  get  him 
alone  for  five  minutes.  And  you're  the 
inmost  core  of  his." 

"Del!" 

"  He  as  good  as  told  me  so.  And  I  prom- 
ised to  put  in  a  good  word  for  him.  So 
this  is  the  good  word.  If  you  will  be  so 
foolish  as  to  refuse  Lighton  —  who  is,  by 
far,  the  better  match  of  the  two  —  why, 
you  might  do  worse  than  Amherst." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  But  I  can't  help  hoping,  of  course,  that 
you  will  never  be  so  foolish  as  to  refuse 
Lighton." 

"  Mr.  Amherst  would  be  delighted  if  he 
could  only  hear  your  warm  advocacy  of  his 
cause." 

"  Oh,  I  told  him  what  I  was  going  to 
say.  I  was  perfectly  frank.  But  I  felt  con- 
strained to  admit  that  you  were  such  a 
hopeless  idiot  that  I  was  very  much  afraid 
that  you  were  going  to  refuse  Lighton,  if 


A    DECISION  219 

you  had  not  done  so,  already.  However, 
as  I  said,  you  were  quite  capable  of  com- 
mitting the  lesser  idiocy  of  refusing  him, 
afterwards.  I  don't  know  that  I  was  quite 
so  nice  a  confidante  as  usual;  but  then  you 
must  remember  that  Gerald  Amherst  abso- 
lutely refused  to  sanction  my  efforts  at 
flirtation  with  him,  this  fall,  and  you  can't 
expect  me  to  forgive  that  all  at  once.  I 
told  him  that,  too." 

"Del!" 

"  Oh,  he's  a  good  sort.  He  said  that, 
once  you  accepted  him,  his  mind  would  be 
free  and,  if  I  would  then  renew  my  atten- 
tions, he  would  accept  them  most  grate- 
fully—  always  provided  you  didn't  kick. 
Well,  he  didn't  put  it  just  that  way,  but 
that  was  his  meaning.  Only  he  didn't 
mean  a  word  of  it.  Lynn,  if  ever  a  man 
was  hopelessly  enamoured  of  a  woman,  you 
are  that  woman.  You're  doing  pretty  well, 
all  things  considered.  Two  proposals  in 
one  winter  and  one  a  good  catch  —  a  par- 
ticularly good  catch  —  don't  glare  so,  Lynn, 
it's  rude!  and  the  other  an  extremely  nice 
man  and  not  too  poor,  either.  My  good- 
ness! but  you  ought  to  be  thankful.    Look 


220         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

at  the  way  some  people  work  and  work 
and  then  don't  get  much  at  the  end;  and 
here  you  just  sit  with  hands  folded,  so  to 
speak,  and  watch  the  desirables  canter  in. 
At  your  age,  too!  only  you  mustn't  dally 
any  longer,  you  know;  it's  time  to  make 
up  your  mind." 

"  Yes,  you're  right.  It's  high  time  I 
made  up  my  mind." 

"  Good.    Now  then,  make  it  up." 

"  My  dear,  my  mind  isn't  like  a  bed  that 
can  be  made  up  while  you  wait.  I  must 
think  a  bit." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  think  about,  I 
should  like  to  know?  Are  you  weakening 
on  the  idea  of  refusing  Lighton?  " 

"  No.  To  tell  you  the  truth  —  I  may 
just  as  well  tell  you,  I  suppose  —  I've  re- 
fused him,  already." 

''What?  When?  Where?  No,  never 
mind  telling  me,  either.  Let's  stick  to  the 
point.  Now  that  you  have  refused  him, 
there  is  only  one  thing  left  to  do  —  marry 
Amherst  and  thank  your  stars  that  he  pro- 
posed just  when  he  did.  Otherwise,  every- 
one would  say  that  Lighton  had  neglected 
to  *  come  up  to  scratch.'     Gracious !    how 


A    DECISION  221 

fortunate  that  you  had  two  strings  to  your 
bow." 

"  You  know  that  old  proverb  about  '  fall- 
ing between  two  stools/  don't  you?"  Lynn 
asked,  smiling  faintly. 

"  Yes,  and  it's  perfect  rubbish.  The  peo- 
ple who  talk  about  *  falling  between  two 
stools '  are  the  people  who've  never  had 
but  one  stool  in  their  lives  and  who've  sat 
firmly  down  on  that  to  prevent  it  getting 
up  and  running  away.  Two  stools,  indeed! 
Twenty,  if  you  can  get  them!  But  two 
will  do  very  nicely  indeed,  when  they  are 
two  like  these.  One  being  gone,  you  grab 
the  other  just  as  quickly  as  you  know  how. 
Now  don't  stop  to  tell  me  that  I  am  get- 
ting vulgar;  practical  people  always  seem 
vulgar  to  visionaries.  The  question  is, 
what  are  you  going  to  say  to  Amherst  to- 
night?" 

"  I'm  not  going  to  say  anything,  Del,  for 
I  simply  can't  let  him  take  me  home.  I 
must  have  a  little  more  time  to  think.  No, 
don't  argue;  I  am  serious.  Tell  him  that 
I  am  frightfully  tired  —  which  is  literally 
true  —  and  that  you  have  asked  me  to 
spend  the  night  here;   but  that,  if  he  will 


222  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

be  so  good  as  to  take  me  home  after  the 
hockey  match  to-morrow  night,  I  shall  be 
eternally  obliged.  Or  no,  don't  put  it  like 
that;  say  that  —  oh  well,  say  what  you 
think  best,  Del,  you  always  know  how  to 
put  these  things.  Really  I  am  so  tired 
that  I  simply  can't  think  to-night.  Will 
you  arrange  it  for  me?  and  you  won't 
mind  putting  me  up  for  the  night,  will 
you?" 

"  No,  dear  child,  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
have  you.  And  I'll  give  him  the  message 
though  I  think  3^ou  are  foolish  to  postpone 
the  thing.  But  I  won't  tease  you,  for  I 
am  sure  you  are  going  to  be  sensible  in 
the  end;  and  we  won't  talk  any  more  about 
it  if  you  don't  want  to.  See  here,  do  look 
at  that  table!  and  please  listen  to  the  con- 
versation between  Agatha  and  that  unfor- 
tunate wretch  of  a  Haldern.  I  know  who 
won't  be  Agatha's  '  latest.'    Do  listen." 

"  But  —  excuse  me  for  asking.  Miss 
Ladilaw  —  but  what  did  you  make  it 
'no  trumps'  on?"  inquired  a  masculine 
voice. 

"  Why  —  why  —  why,  I'll  tell  you,  Mr. 
Haldern,"  said  Agatha  looking  up  at  him, 


A    DECISION  223 

confidingly.  "  My  own  hand  was  so  per- 
fectly awful  —  so  appalling  —  that  I  felt 
sure  Dummy  must  have  a  lot  of  aces  and 
things.     But  you  see  it  didn't." 

"  But,  in  that  case,  why  didn't  you  leave 
it  to  me?" 

"  Because  I  —  I  was  so  afraid  that  you 
would  make  it  spades.  And  I  had  quite 
good  diamonds." 

"But  don't  you  see?"  — 

"  Oh,  I  always  believe  in  trusting  some- 
thing to  Dummy,"  Agatha  interrupted  gen- 
tly but  with  an  air  of  finality.  "  Don't  let 
us  discuss  it  any  further,  Mr.  Haldern." 

"  Del,"  whispered  Lynn  to  her  hostess, 
"  I  may  not  be  very  kind-hearted,  but  I 
would  not  inflict  Agatha  on  any  man." 

"  Oh,  they'll  change  partners  at  the  next 
table.  And  I  think  it's  good  for  men  to 
play  with  Agatha:  they  appreciate  the  next 
partner  they  get  so  much  more  than  they 
otherwise  would.  Well,  Lynn,  how  do  you 
like  my  twins?  " 

"Charming;  and  they  do  seem  to  enjoy 
everything  so.  Did  they  only  get  here  to- 
day? They  look  so  cheerful  and  fresh.  I 
thought  they  would  probably  want  to  rest, 


224  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

the  first  evening;  but  they  seem  to  be  en- 
joying it." 

"  Yes.  They're  nineteen.  At  nineteen 
one  enjoys  everything  but  rest.  I  knew 
that  and  so  I  determined  to  start  in  with- 
out a  moment's  delay.  I'm  perfectly  de- 
lighted with  them,  myself.  I  don't  see  how 
in  the  world  that  old  curmudgeon  of  a 
brother  of  Henry's  ever  contrived  to  have 
two  such  good-looking,  good-humoured 
children.  And  their  names  are  so  cute  — 
Bert  and  Bertie;  and  the  likeness  is  some- 
thing extraordinary." 

It  was.  Lynn,  who  had  elected  to  remain 
outside  the  game  and  keep  her  hostess  com- 
pany, glanced  from  the  cosy  corner  where 
she  was  ensconced  to  a  table  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  where  Miss  Bertha  Hadwell 
was  sitting:  then  a  little  further  on  to 
where  Mr.  Albert  Hadwell  was  scooping 
up  tricks  with  a  dexterity  which  bespoke 
long  practice.  The  boy  was  slightly,  very 
slightly  taller  than  the  girl;  but,  apart 
from  that,  one  might  have  fancied  that  one 
was  the  other's  double.  The  same  olive 
cheeks,  slightly  tinged  with  rose-red:  the 
same  impish,  restless  dark  eyes:    the  same 


A   DECISION  225 

long,  thin  mouth,  ever  parting  to  show 
gleaming,  irregular  white  teeth. 

They  were  an  attractive  pair:  and 
Lynn's  eyes  rested  on  them  for  several 
moments  before  they  wandered  slowly  over 
the  rest  of  the  room.  The  usual  company 
was  present:  the  pretty  girl  who  never 
counted  the  tricks  and  continually  appealed 
to  her  partner  to  tell  her  "what  was 
trumps";  the  stout  woman  who  remem- 
bered everything  and  berated  her  confrere 
soundly  if  he  forgot  the  thirteenth  card; 
the  mild-looking  man  who  smiled  sweetly 
as  his  lady  partners  trumped  his  tricks  and 
cursed  them  bitterly  on  his  way  home;  the 
pompous  man  who  never  failed  to  instruct 
all  the  rest  of  the  table;  the  excitable  de- 
butante who  invariably  dropped  the  wrong 
card  on  the  trick,  then  shrieked  aloud  and 
sought  permission  to  "  take  it  back "  on 
the  ground  that  she  "  hadn't  been  think- 
ing ";  and,  last  but  not  least,  the  bad-tem- 
pered man  who  regarded  bridge  as  a  relig- 
ion, and  burned  to  slay  the  sacrilegious  ones 
who  violated  its  tenets. 

"  Oh,  Lynn,"  whispered  Mrs.  Hadwell 
with  a  sigh  of  contentment,  "  aren't  people 


226         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

a  treat?  I  wonder  if  they're  getting  hun- 
gry. Do  you  think  I  had  better  give  or- 
ders to  have  supper  served?  " 

"  It  mightn't  be  a  bad  idea.  Let  me  go 
with  you,  Del." 

"  Such  a  queer  thing  has  happened  to-day, 
Lynn,"  whispered  Mrs.  Hadwell,  confiden- 
tially, as  they  went  out  together.  "  You 
remember  my  speaking  to  you  of  my  prize 
housekeeper?  the  one  beside  whose  frigid 
nature  my  own  showed  in  the  light  of  a 
volcano?  Well,  she  has  actually  shown 
signs  of  being  human  for  once.  To-day 
she  approached  me  with  a  request  for  an 
extra  night  out:  at  least  she  didn't  call  it 
that,  but  it  was  practically  what  she  wanted. 
Under  the  circumstances  —  the  twins  ar- 
riving and  the  bridge  people  coming  here, 
to-night  —  I  demurred  a  little  and  asked 
if  to-morrow  wouldn't  do.  She  then  told 
me  —  with  an  air  of  wishing  she  didn't 
have  to  — that  General  Shaftan  —  the  Gen- 
eral Shaftan  —  had  been  an  old  friend  of 
hers  in  childhood  days;  and  that  she  had 
just  received  an  urgent  message,  asking 
that  she  go  without  fail  to  his  house  to- 
night.   He  must  be  better;   it  is  queer,  for 


A   DECISION  227 

I  understood  that  he  had  been  quite  given 
up:  he  has  two  nurses  and  is  never  left 
for  a  moment,  day  or  night.  Imagine! 
Of  course  I  told  her  to  go  —  but  w^hat  in 
the  world  do  you  suppose  it  means?  You 
know  the  story  about  the  General  and  the 
bewitching  Langham-Greene,  of  course? 
They  were  engaged  to  be  married  some 
twenty  years  ago  when  Langham-Greene 
—  who  was  plain  Bill  Greene,  then  —  hove 
upon  the  scene  with  his  half  a  million:  and 
'  the  scene  was  changed/  My  lady  dropped 
Shaftan  like  a  hot  potato  and  transformed 
Bill  into  a  Benedict  and  a  Langham- 
Greene.  Then  she  drove  him  to  drink:  at 
least  they  say  so!  I  don't  believe,  myself, 
that  he  took  much  driving.  At  all  events 
he  was  thoughtful  enough  to  drink  himself 
to  death:  and  thoughtless  enough  to  spec- 
ulate and  leave  her  very  poorly  off  —  com- 
paratively speaking,  of  course!  Shaftan,  in 
the  meantime,  had  left  the  city  and  gone  to 
India:  and  just  about  the  time  that  Bill 
Greene  drank  his  last  glass,  he  blossomed 
out  as  a  General  and  dear  knows  what  all. 
Wasn't  it  rich?  Poor  Julia  thought  she 
had  only  to  hold  out  a  welcoming  hand. 


228  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

when  he  returned;  but  to  every  one's  sur- 
prise, he  had  neither  forgotten  nor  for- 
given. If  he  had  even  refused  to  meet  her 
it  would  have  been  some  solace  to  her  van- 
ity, but  he  was  quite  ready  to  go  so  far  and 
was  extremely  polite  when  he  did:  only  he 
would  never  talk  to  her  if  he  could  help 
it.  She  gave  him  up  at  last  as  a  bad  job. 
Now,  when  the  papers  can  talk  of  nothing 
else  but  the  career  of  the  famous  General 
Shaftan  and  his  approaching  death  he  sends 
for  my  housekeeper  —  and  by  the  way,  Mrs. 
Waite  knew  the  Langham-Greene  well  when 
she  was  a  girl,  for  the  latter  told  me  so, 
adding  in  her  pleasant  way  that  the  poor 
thing  had  never  had  but  the  one  offer  which 
she  accepted." 

"  I  wish  she  had  said  that  to  me." 
"  She  knows  your  tongue  too  well,  my 
dear.  And  you  make  a  great  mistake  in 
not  conciliating  the  creature.  Never  make 
an  enemy  of  a  cad,  male  or  female;  for 
*  it '  can  use  weapons  which  you  would  dis- 
dain to  touch,  and  those  weapons  are  fre- 
quently poisoned.  If  you  must  make  ene- 
mies, make  them  of  honourable  people,  who 
will  simply  let  you  alone,  and  not  be  trying 


A    DECISION  229 

to  injure  you;  and  be  careful  to  see  that 
every  obnoxious  kind  of  human  reptile  loves 
you.  But  w^hat's  the  use  of  talking?  one 
can't  teach  you  common  sense." 

When  the  business  of  ascertaining  the 
highest  scores  had  been  attended  to  Miss 
Erma  Reed  was  found  to  be  the  winner  of 
the  lady's  prize.  Mrs.  Hadwell  was  much 
amused  by  the  warmth  of  Mr.  Bert  Had- 
well's  congratulations.  Such  plaudits  as 
he  bestowed  upon  her  are  rarely  called 
forth  by  the  most  amazing  skill:  and  his 
aunt  by  marriage  laughed  and  pinched 
Miss  Thayer's  arm  as  she  listened  to 
them. 

"  When  one  considers  Erma's  height  and 
proportions  and  the  almost  unnatural  white- 
ness of  her  skin,  one  sees  that  it  is  merely 
to  be  expected  that  such  a  slender  and 
brown  individual  as  Bert  should  be  im- 
pressed by  her  cleverness  at  bridge.  .  .  . 
Here  is  your  prize,  dear!  I  am  so  glad  you 
won  it  and  I  think  it  will  go  nicely  with 
your  pretty  dress." 

"  It  "  was  a  pearl  pendant  which  Erma 
received  with  something  as  nearly  ap- 
proaching  animation   as   that   stately   and 


230         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

somewhat  shy  damsel  ever  showed.  She 
was,  beyond  all  doubt,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  girls  in  Montreal;  her  absolutely 
flawless  skin  and  generous  though  grace- 
ful proportions  instinctively  recalling  the 
masterpieces  of  Grecian  sculpture.  Yet  it 
was  a  cold  beauty,  unlit  by  intellectual  or 
mirthful  fires:  and  some  of  the  unthinking 
who  merely  assimilate  the  general  effect 
without  noticing  details  had  been  heard  to 
say  openly  that  they  preferred  Mrs.  Had- 
well's  vivacious  prettiness  to  the  younger 
woman's  more  stately  charms.  No  one  had 
laughed  more  freely  at  this  than  Mrs.  Had- 
well,  herself.  She  was  well  aware  that, 
devoid  of  artificial  advantages,  she  would 
be  a  most  insignificant  little  nonentity,  but 
that  fact  gave  her  no  uneasiness  and  dimin- 
ished nothing  of  her  graciousness  toward 
the  younger  and  prettier  girls  who  thronged 
her  entertainments  and  sang  her  praises 
without  stint.  Yet  she  could  not  bear 
"  green  girls." 

"  Lynn,"  she  would  say  to  her  friend, 
"  you  have  no  idea  what  a  comfort  it  is  to 
feel  that  I  can  get  away  from  them  some- 
times and  take  a  rest  with  you.    After  these 


A   DECISION  231 

giggling,  insipid  debutantes  you  are  like  a 
—  a  cocktail !  Yet  it  is  the  thing  for  nice 
women  to  be  adored  by  young  girls  and 
so  I  must  be  adored,  worse  luck! " 


CHAPTER   XV 

"BE   PITIFUL,   O   GOD!" 

"O   God!    to  clasp  those   fingers  close   and  yet   to   feel   so 

lonely, 
To  see  a  light  within  those  eyes  that  is  the  daylight  only  — 
Be  pitiful,  O  God !  " 

—  E.  Barrett  Browning. 

AMY  WAITE  walked  swiftly  down 
the  path  which  led  from  Hadwell 
Heights  to  Pine  Avenue.  The  night 
was  a  cold  one;  the  moon  hung  bright  and 
glittering  in  the  starlit  heavens  and  the 
white,  still  earth  seemed  to  her  as  cruel  as 
Life,  as  inexorable  as  Time.  She  shivered 
as  she  walked  and  drew  her  shabby  fur 
more  closely  around  her  throat.  When 
would  this  cruel  walk  end?  When  would 
this  cruder  interview  be  over? 

She  reached  her  destination  at  length  and 
rang  the  bell.  General  Shaftan  had  no  rel- 
atives in  Montreal,  but  his  fame  and  char- 
acter had  won  him  many  friends.  Yet  he 
lay   dying  alone   in   his   handsome   house; 

232 


"BE    PITIFUL,    O    GOD!"       233 

alone,  save  for  the  ministrations  of  a  hired 
nurse.  Mrs.  Waite's  thin  hps  curved  in  a 
smile  more  tragic  than  most  tears  are  as 
she  stood  on  the  doorstep  of  the  silent 
house  while  the  keen  winds  blew  dismally 
about  her.  Alone!  What  freak  had  made 
him  send  for  her  at  such  a  time? 

A  silent  man-servant  admitted  and  con- 
ducted her  upstairs.  Amy  paused  long 
enough  to  remove  her  wraps  and,  while 
she  waited,  the  nurse  came  out  from  the 
sickroom  and  spoke,  softly. 

"  The  General  is  failing  fast,"  she  whis- 
pered. "  He  was  determined  to  see  you 
this  evening  and  so  I  sent  you  that  urgent 
message.  This  afternoon  he  saw  his  law- 
yer on  business  connected  with  his  will  and 
I  wanted  him  to  wait  till  to-morrow  for 
this,  but  he  would  not.  He  seemed  to  fear 
that  he  might  not  live  to  see  another  day." 
Her  voice  trembled;  she  was  a  kind- 
hearted  soul  and  the  General  had  a  way 
of  endearing  himself  to  all  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact.  Mrs.  Waite,  however, 
stood  erect  and  tearless,  and  the  nurse,  after 
a  half-wondering,  half-resentful  glance,  di- 
rected her  to  enter. 


234  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  He  wants  to  see  you,  alone,"  she  said, 
reluctantly.  "  But,  if  any  change  should 
take  place  in  him,  be  sure  to  let  me  know 
at  once." 

Mrs.  Waite  gave  the  required  promise 
and  left  her.  The  General  lay,  half-propped 
up  with  pillows;  his  bronzed  face  was  pale 
with  the  pallor  of  approaching  dissolution, 
but  his  eyes  were  the  eyes  of  twenty. 
Amy's  dead  youth  sprang  to  sudden  life 
beneath  them  and  something  akin  to  the 
hopeless,  useless  rapture  of  thirty  years 
ago  awoke  and  cried  in  her  heart.  Her 
face  was  set  and  pallid,  and  the  hands  which 
clasped  the  dying  soldier's  were  cold  as  his 
own.  They  looked  at  one  another  in  silence 
which  the  woman  could  not  break.  The 
man  spoke  at  last,  a  little  disappointed  at 
her  lack  of  feeling. 

"Well,  Amy?"  he  whispered,  half-quiz- 
zically. 

"You  —  wanted  to  see  me,  Arnold?" 

"  I  did  — .very  much.  I'm  dying  —  I  sup- 
pose you  know  that,  eh?  " 

"I  had  heard  so.     I  didn't  know'* 

"  Oh,  it's  true  enough.  Don't  I  show  in 
my  looks  that  I  am  ?  " 


"BE    PITIFUL,    O    GOD!"       235 

Amy  did  not  answer  immediately  nor  did 
her  face  betray  any  especial  interest  in  the 
statement.  The  General,  after  scrutinizing 
her  closely,  almost  anxiously  for  a  moment, 
relinquished  her  hand  and  laughed,  half  in 
amusement,  half  in  disappointment. 

"  You're  a  cold-blooded  little  creature. 
Amy,"  he  cried.  "  You  always  were.  But 
you're  a  faithful  little  soul  —  I'd  trust  you 
through  thick  and  thin  —  and  I  want  to  do 
something  for  you  before  I  go.  Also  I 
want  you  to  help  me  to  pay  off  old  scores 
and  spite  my  lady  Julia  —  you  won't  mind 
lending  a  hand  in  that,  I'll  wager."  His 
still  brilliant  grey  eyes  twinkled  signifi- 
cantly. 

Amy  watched  him  passively  and  smiled  a 
little,  wondering  why  an  ugly,  faded  woman 
of  forty-eight  with  a  sordid  past  should  feel 
as  keenly  and  cruelly  as  an  untrained  girl 
of  eighteen.  No  answer  suggested  itself 
and  she  sat  in  silence,  watching  the  dying 
man  and  wishing  that  she,  herself,  had  died 
long  ago. 

The  General  laughed  feebly  as  he  looked 
at  her.  She  was,  as  he  had  told  her,  such 
a  cold-blooded  little  thing  —  rather  unpleas- 


236  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

antly  like  a  fish  —  but,  after  all,  poor  little 
soul!  she  had  had  a  beastly  hard  time  of 
it;  why,  she  looked  like  an  old  woman  at 
fifty.  He  could  do  one  good  turn  to  a 
friend  before  he  died,  at  all  events. 

"  Amy,"  he  said  at  last,  "  give  me  your 
hand,  little  woman!  I  want  to  know  if 
you  will  marry  me.  Don't  look  surprised: 
this  is  no  freak.  You  see  if  we  are  married 
I  can  leave  you  all  my  money  —  I  am  not 
poor,  though  I  am  not  rich  —  and  it's  only 
right  that  you  should  have  some  comfort 
before  you  die.  Then,  too,  I  want  to  pre- 
vent Mrs.  Julia  from  saying  what  she  will 
say  as  soon  as  I  am  dead  —  that  I  always 
wanted  her  and  died  of  grief  as  well  as  of 
my   wound,   because   of   her   refusal.      She 

shan't  say  that,  by She  spoilt  my  life 

and  I'll  not  die  till  I've  paid  her  back  a 
little.  It  seems  queer,"  he  went  on,  with 
the  radiant,  mischievous  smile  that  had 
made  his  listener's  heart  ache  in  the  old 
days,  "  it  seems  queer  to  die  a  married  man, 
Amy,  after  living  a  single  one  all  my  life. 
But  it's  never  too  late  to  mend.  How  thin 
your  hand  is,  you  poor  little  thing!  You've 
had  hard  luck,  haven't  you?"    He  relapsed 


"BE   PITIFUL,    O    GOD!"       237 

into  silence,  staring  steadily  at  the  wall  at 
the  foot  of  his  bed.  His  eyes  grew  glazed 
and  feverish. 

"  Don't  leave  me,"  he  muttered.  "  JuHa ! 
Julia!" 

Amy  started  and  winced. 

"You're  a  beastly  little  flirt,"  he  went 
on,  angrily,  gripping  her  hand  till  she  with 
difficulty  refrained  from  crying  out  with 
pain,  "  a  heartless,  despicable  little  flirt  and 
I  despise  you  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul 

—  but,  O  God!  I  can't  help  loving  you. 
No  other  woman  has  ever  been  to  me 
what   you   were  —  and    you  —  threw  —  me 

—  over,"  he  went  on,  slowly,  with  a  hard, 
cruel  expression,  "for  Greene.  Greene! 
the  miserable,  worthless  sot!  Well,  you 
made  one  mistake,  my  lady,  didn't  you? 
.  .  .  But  don't  turn  away,  Julia ! "  he  went 
on,  imploringly,  "  don't  turn  away  from 
me!  I  can't  stand  it.  .  .  .  Your  hand  is 
cold  —  you  don't  care  —  O  my  God !  you 
don't  care ! "  His  voice  rose  almost  to  a 
wail.  "  Julia !  "  he  cried.  "  Julia !  my  dar- 
ling, my  darling!  —  say  it's  a  mistake! 
You're  not  what  you  pretend  to  be  —  you 
can't  he\  — Julia/" 


238         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

He  sank  back  exhausted  and  his  face  re- 
laxed. A  look  of  intense  relief  overspread 
his  features  and  his  lips  formed  a  smile  of 
great  beauty  and  tenderness. 

"Julia!"  he  murmured  softly.  Then  he 
died. 

Amy  sat  quite  unmoved  and  looked  at  the 
rigid  figure.  She  showed  no  particular 
emotion;  yet  the  peace  vs^hich  made  the 
dead  face  so  beautiful  was  lacking  in  the 
living.  Some  minutes  elapsed.  She  rose 
at  last  and  stood  for  a  moment,  looking 
down.  About  that  lifeless  thing  on  the 
bed  had  clustered  all  her  poor,  starved  life 
had  held  of  love  and  romance.  She  bent 
slowly  toward  it ;  then  straightened,  a  faint 
red  colour  in  her  sallow  cheek. 

"No!"  she  said,  almost  proudly. 

She  rang  the  bell. 

"  The  General  has  just  died,"  she  said  in 
level,  unemotional  accents.  "  It  was  very 
sudden.  It  was  impossible  to  call  you.  I 
am  sorry." 

The  big-hearted  nurse  looked  at  her  with' 
hearty  repulsion  and  dislike  and  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears.     There  seemed  no  partic- 


"BE    PITIFUL,    O    GOD!"       239 

ular  "reason  for  waiting  further;  Amy- 
moved  mechanically  to  the  door  and  down 
the  steps;  and  so  passed  quietly  into  the 
bitter  night. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  HOCKEY  MATCH 

"The  day  is  short,  the  evening  cometh  fast; 
The  time  of  choosing,  Love,  will  soon  be  past; 
The  outer  darkness  falleth.  Love,  at  last. 
Love,  let  us  love  ere  it  be  late  —  too  late! 

Once,  only,  Love,  may  love's  sweet  song  be  sung, 
But  once.  Love,  at  our  feet  life's  flower  is  flung; 
Once,  Love,  once  only,  Love,  can  we  be  young." 

— Anon. 

THE  Montreal  Arena  is  a  building  of 
considerable  size,  capable  of  ac- 
commodating many  thousands.  It 
has  been  the  scene  of  many  a  revel;  horses, 
prima  donnas,  vegetables,  all  have  exhib- 
ited here  at  one  time  or  another;  from  Calve, 
who  raved  w^ith  indignation  at  the  idea  of 
singing  in  such  a  place,  to  Emperor,  the 
finest  horse  in  Canada,  w^ho  made  no  objec- 
tion, whatever.  Only  a  hockey  match, 
however,  can  count  positively  on  filling  it 
from  wall  to  wall. 

240 


THE   HOCKEY   MATCH         241 

To-night  was  the  Wales-Conquerors 
match:  and  many  a  business  man  of  ma- 
ture years  had  sent  his  office  boy  days  be- 
fore to  "  stand  in  Hne  "  from  nine  to  eleven 
on  a  bitter  winter  morning  in  order  to  pro- 
cure tickets.  Mrs.  Hadwell  had  secured 
six  seats  and  had  organized  a  party  to  es- 
cort her  American  guests  thither.  She, 
however,  had  not  accompanied  them, 
frankly  acknowledging  the  obvious  fact 
that  she  was  "  no  sport." 

"  I  do  love  to  be  fin-de-siecle,"  she  had 
said.  "  But,  when  it  comes  to  hockey  or 
pug  dogs  —  well,  I  simply  can't,  that's  all." 
Then  she  had  told  a  plaintive  tale  of  how, 
when  a  girl,  she  had  been  taken  to  a  hockey 
match.  Her  escort  had  been  an  enthusiast 
of  the  most  virulent  type;  and  she  had 
been  obliged  to  feign  a  joy  which  she  by 
no  means  felt. 

"  It  was  ghastly,"  she  observed,  "  ghastly. 
There  I  sat,  huddled  in  grandmother's  seal- 
skin which  wasn't  a  bit  becoming,  and 
watched  a  lot  of  weird  things  dressed  like 
circus  clowns  knocking  a  bit  of  rubber 
round  a  slippery  rink.  And  all  those  poor 
misguided  beings  who  had  paid  two,  three 


242  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

and  five  dollars  to  see  them  do  it  yelled 
like  mad  whenever  the  rubber  got  taken 
down  a  little  faster  than  usual  —  oh,  you 
may  laugh!  but  I  can  tell  you  that  when 
one  of  those  silly  men  whacked  another 
silly  man  over  the  head  when  the  umpire 
wasn't  looking  because  the  second  ass  had 
hit  that  absurd  bit  of  rubber  oftener  than 
he,  the  first  ass,  had  —  why,  I  felt  sorry 
to  think  that  the  human  species  to  which 
I  belonged  was  so  devoid  of  sense.  And 
that  great  goat  who  stood  at  one  end  and 
tried  to  stop  the  thing  from  getting  be- 
tween two  sticks!  why  did  everyone  think 
he  was  a  hero  when  he  managed  to  get  his 
two  big  feet  together  in  time  to  stop  the 
rubber  from  getting  through?  I  don't  see 
anything  very  clever  in  putting  your  feet 
together  and  letting  a  rubber  thing  come 
bang  against  your  toes,  do  you? 

"But  what's  the  use  of  talking!  You 
must  think  it  clever.  You  must!  or  why 
should  you  go?  Where  is  the  attraction? 
Do  you  like  hearing  those  wild-looking  men 
shouting  insults  at  the  men  who  don't  play 
on  their  team?  Does  it  amuse  you  to  hear 
them   snarling,   'Dirty  Smith!    PutimoflF!' 


THE    HOCKEY    MATCH         243 

'  Butcher  Brown !  Knockiseadoff,  Robin- 
son! '  It  is  incomprehensible  to  me.  I  shall 
always  remember  Alice  Mann's  proud  face 
as  she  watched  her  brother  chasing  round 
while  the  crowd  hailed  him  by  the  dignified 
and  endearing  title  of  '  Dirty  Mann.'  I 
think  that,  if  I  had  a  brother  and  heard 
him  called  *  Dirty  Mann '  in  public,  I  should 
want  to  leave  the  city." 

Accordingly  Mrs.  Hadwell  had  stayed 
at  home;  but  a  merry  and  expectant  party 
had  met  at  Hadwell  Heights  and  had 
driven  to  the  Arena,  where  they  sat  now, 
awaiting  the  fray.  It  would  be  some  time 
before  this  began,  so  the  young  strangers 
had  time  to  look  about  them  and  comment 
on  the  various  spectators.  Ladies  wrapped 
in  costly  furs  sat  side  by  side  with  shabbily 
dressed  men,  who,  in  spite  of  the  printed 
reminder  that  smoke  was  forbidden,  ejected 
a  constant  stream  in  the  air,  the  while  they 
hoarsely  sang  the  merits  of  their  favourite 
team  and  the  demerits  of  the  opposing  one. 
Small  boys  perched  on  the  rafters,  looking 
as  though  a  finger  touch  would  hurl  them 
to  instant  destruction. 

"  If  one  of  them  did  fall,"  inquired  Bertie, 


244  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

with  a  shudder,  "  wouldn't  he  be  instantly- 
killed?" 

"  If  he  were  lucky,"  returned  her  com- 
panion, a  young  McGill  professor  named 
Donovan,  cheerfully.  "  Otherwise  he  might 
only  injure  himself  for  life." 

"  But " 

"  But  you  see.  Miss  Hadwell,  none  of 
them  ever  do  fall.  Not  one  boy  has  ever 
lost  his  hold,  as  far  as  I  know.  If  one  of 
them  did  get  killed  of  course  it  would  be 
stopped." 

"But  don't  they  get  awfully  excited?" 

"  Excited !  They  go  mad.  But  they 
don't  fall." 

"  You  see,"  interposed  Gerald  Amherst, 
"  they  never  think  about  it.  If  one  of  them 
stopped  clapping  and  wriggling  and  began 
to  measure  the  space  from  his  airy  perch 
to  the  ice,  below;  and  furthermore  medi- 
tate on  the  consistency  and  solidity  of  the 
aforesaid  ice  and  the  probable  fate  of  any- 
one whose  head  came  in  contact  with  it 
after  a  fall  of  seventy  to  a  hundred  feet  — 
why,  he  would  drop,  that's  all.  They  are 
occupied  with  more  important  matters, 
however;    the  merits  of  Smith  as  a  goal- 


THE    HOCKEY    MATCH         245 

keeper,  the  demerits  of  Brown  as  a  forward 
—  they  have  no  time  to  muse  upon  their 
latter  end  and  the  thin  veil  that  lies  be- 
tween them  and  eternity." 

"  I'm  glad  they  haven't ;  for  my  part  I'm 
convinced  that  I  shall  have  nightmare  after 
seeing  them.  Is  that  your  —  what  is  the 
band  playing  for?  Oh,  is  that  the  Vice- 
Regal  party?  Dear  me!  what  is  every  one 
rising  for?    Must  I  get  up,  too?" 

Her  voice  was  drowned  in  the  strains  of 
the  National  Anthem  which  was  howled 
enthusiastically  by  boxes  and  rafters,  alike. 
As,  "  God  save  the  King  "  died  into  silence 
the  Governor-General  bowed  and  took  his 
seat;  while  his  daughters  gazed  with  in- 
terest about  the  Arena  which  they  were 
visiting  for  the  first  time. 

"  Observe  his  coat,"  said  Mr.  Donovan. 
"  Feast  your  American  eyes  on  it.  That 
coat  was  bought  by  Lord  Dufferin,  and  left 
by  him  to  be  worn  by  his  successors.  The 
sleeves  are  quite  out  of  style  by  this  time; 
but  you  see  '  This  is  a  man! '  What's  your 
opinion  of  him,  on  the  whole?" 

"  Why,  I  think  —  good  gracious,  what's 
that!" 


246  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

A  roar  that  shook  the  roof  arose  as  the 
opposing  teams  emerged  from  the  waiting 
room  and  skated  upon  the  ice.  The  scarlet 
sweaters  and  caps  of  the  Conquerors 
stained  the  crystal  ice  with  daubs  of  blood: 
and  the  more  sombre  hues  of  the  Wales 
showed  with  almost  equal  effect. 

"Oh,  are  they  beginning?"  cried  Bertie 
in  ecstasy. 

They  were.  The  whistle  blew  and  both 
sides  skated  to  the  centre  to  receive  the 
customary  warning. 

"  They  both  seem  pretty  cool,"  remarked 
Mr.  Amherst.  "  No  signs  of  nervousness 
that  I  can  see." 

"Not  a  particle.  Look!  who  has  won 
the  toss?  The  Conquerors?  Hurrah!  You 
must  say  'Hurrah!'  too,  Mr.  Hadwell, 
whenever  anything  nice  happens  to  the 
Conquerors.  It's  no  fun  unless  you  choose 
a  team." 

"Why  is  the  Conquerors  your  team?" 

"  Because  —  oh,  because  the  captain's 
father  was  baptized  by  my  grandfather,  I 
believe.  There  is  some  such  reason,  but, 
for  the  moment,  I  forget  just  what  it  is. 
Any  reason  will  do,  you  know;    the  point 


THE   HOCKEY   MATCH         247 

is  that  you  must  have  a  favourite  team  and 
shout  whenever  it  scores  and  groan  with 
indignation  whenever  the  other  team  does. 
Do  you  see?  " 

"I  see.  When  am  I  to  begin?  and  how 
am  I  to  let  the  public  know  what  I  am 
groaning  about?  " 

"  Oh,  the  public  will  know  if  you  groan 
in  the  right  place  —  that  is,  when  the  other 
team  does  well.  Oh,  look!  there  goes  the 
puck!" 

It  dashed  across  the  ice,  followed  by  a 
mass  of  skimming,  pursuing  forms;  and, 
for  the  next  few  moments,  silence  reigned. 
Then  a  shout  arose,  "  Off-side !  " 

"  Off-side "  it  was ;  and  the  indignant 
audience  hurled  insults  impartially  at  both 
teams;  no  one  seeming  very  sure  as  to 
which  was  "  off-side,"  but  each  assuming 
that  it  could  not  be  a  member  of  his  fa- 
vourite team.  The  Conquerors  lost  to  the 
Wales  this  time  and  the  latter  passed  to 
one  of  his  team  who  succeeded  in  sending 
the  puck  flying  toward  the  goal.  Intense 
excitement  reigned:  would  he  succeed  in 
getting  the  puck  past  the  goal-keeper?  No: 
the  latter  deftly  turned  it  aside;  and  a  roar 


248  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

of  mingled  delight  and  disappointment 
arose  which  made  the  American  girl  start 
and  put  her  hands  to  her  ears. 

"  Do  they  often  make  such  a  noise?  "  she 
asked,  involuntarily. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  answered  Donovan, 
staring.  "  You  don't  mind  it,  do  you?  Oh, 
shame  on  you,  Parton!  what  are  you  think- 
ing about.  Umpire?  —  don't  mind  me,  Miss 
Hadwell,  I'm  just  —  Hurray!  Bully  for 
you,  Marsh!  oh,  good  work,  old  boy. 
You're  the  stuff!  Push  it  along  —  Hur- 
ray! " 

The  puck  had  passed  and  the  Conquerors 
had  drawn  first  blood.  In  the  first  wild 
shriek  that  rose  Bertie  was  conscious  chiefly 
of  one  thing  —  everybody's  mouth  was 
wide  open.  No  individual  shriek  could  be 
distinguished,  yet,  judging  from  appear- 
ances, every  one,  from  the  Governor-Gen- 
eral in  his  box  to  the  smallest  imp  on  the 
highest  rafter,  was  shouting  himself  hoarse. 
Slowly  the  excitement  subsided;  slowly  the 
spectators  sank  back  into  the  seats  which 
they  had  vacated;  and,  after  a  minute  or 
two  of  preparation,  the  game  recommenced. 

"Never  tell  me  again  that  the  English 


THE    HOCKEY    MATCH         249 

are  a  cold  race,"  Bertie  remarked  solemnly 
as  the  party  took  their  seats  in  Mrs.  Had- 
well's  carriage  at  the  close  of  the  evening. 
*'  I  have  read  of  such  things,  but  I  never 
expected  to  see  them  in  Canada.  I  could 
go  to  a  hockey  match  every  night  in  the 
v^eek.  It's  grand!  And,  Mr.  Donovan,  if 
the  Wales  had  won  —  as  I  thought  at  one 
time  they  would  —  I  believe  I  should  have 
cried  myself  to  sleep.  Oh,  you  needn't 
laugh!     I  mean  it." 

An  hour  or  so  later,  after  the  assembled 
guests  had  partaken  of  a  supper  at  Had- 
well  Heights,  Lynn  and  Gerald  Amherst 
left  together  and  walked  slowly  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  city.  It  was  midnight  and 
the  streets  were  practically  deserted.  For 
a  short  time  they  walked  on  in  silence, 
neither  caring  to  speak  of  anything  except 
the  subject  which  was  uppermost  in  the 
minds  of  both.  Finally,  however,  Gerald 
broke  the  silence. 

"  Lynn,"  he  said,  very  quietly,  "  I  have 
tried  to  tell  you  something  several  times. 
You  have  always  turned  the  subject  in  one 
way  or  another.  This  has  been  going  on 
now  for  a  long  time,  for  a  very  long  time. 


250         THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

I  can't  have  it.  I  must  know  to-night,  what 
it  is  to  be.  You  don't  understand,  I  think, 
how  hard  this  is  on  me;  if  you  did,  you 
wouldn't  be  vexed  with  me  for  speaking  so 
plainly."    He  paused. 

"I  —  am  not  vexed  with  you.  I  had 
rather  you  spoke,  plainly  —  but"  — 

"  But  —  there  it  is,  again.  You  seem 
uneasy,  almost  unhappy  about  the  matter. 
Yet  I  don't  think  you  altogether  dislike 
me;  in  fact  —  in  fact  there  have  been  times 
when  I  was  sure  you  cared  —  then  when  I 
saw  you  next,  you  were  quite  different, 
altogether  different.  You  seemed  to  avoid 
me.  I  know  it  is  quite  impossible  to  under- 
stand a  woman,  but,  some  way,  I  can't  help 
hoping.  You  are  so  sincere  in  other  ways 
that  I  think  you  would  be  sincere  even 
about  a  thing  like  this.  Now  tell  me! 
There  is  some  trouble,  some  difficulty,  I 
know.    Won't  you  tell  me  what  it  is?" 

"  Oh,  no  —  I  can't." 

"Why  not?  Is  it  that  you  are  thinking 
of  some  one  else  —  of  Harold  Lighton,  for 
instance  —  and  that  you  can't  be  sure  as 
to  which  you  prefer  "  — 

"  No,    that   is   not   it.      You   have   been 


THE    HOCKEY    MATCH         251 

frank;  and  I  will  be  frank  in  return.  I 
prefer  you  to  any  other  man  that  I  have 
ever  known." 

"  Then  "  — 

"No,  stop!  You  don't  understand  me. 
I  did  not  say  that  I  wanted  to  marry  you 
and  "  — 

"  You  mean  that  you  —  don't  care 
enough,  is  that  it?  " 

"  N-no.    I  can't  say  that,  exactly." 

"What  then?"  he  asked,  eagerly;  but 
Lynn  was  silent,  staring  at  the  lights  of 
the  distant  city. 

"  Lynn !  —  what  in  God's  name  do  you 
mean?  Think!  Think  of  what  you  have 
said.  In  one  breath  you  almost  allow  that 
you  care  for  me;  and,  in  the  next,  you  say, 
practically,  that  you  can't  marry  me. 
What  does  it  all  mean?" 

"  I  can't  tell  you." 

"  You  must.    Try." 

"  I  know  that  I  must  sound  ridiculous 
and  unreasonable  to  you,  but  the  fact  re- 
mains. I  do  love  you;  I  can't  bear  to  let 
you  go  away  without  telling  you  so.  But 
for  reasons  which  —  which  I  can't  explain 
—  I  don't  think  that  I  can  marry  you." 


252  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  But,  Lynn,  what  in  the  world  can  you 
mean  ?  You  have  no  ties !  nothing  that  can 
bind  you  down  or  prevent  you  from  doing 
as  you  please.    What  do  you  mean?" 

Lynn  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  little 
while,  then  turned.     Her  face  was  white. 

"  I  can't  marry  you,  Gerald,"  she  said, 
distinctly. 

"Why  not?    There's  some  one  else?" 

"  No  —  not  in  the  way  you  mean." 

"  Then  it's  just  that  you  don't  care 
enough.     It  must  be." 

She  said  nothing,  but  bit  her  lips  and 
quivered. 

"  You  do  care,"  he  burst  forth,  suddenly. 
"  Lynn,  you  do  care.  I  know  it.  I  feel  it.. 
You  have  taken  some  crazy  notion  in  your 
head,  some  fanatical  idea  or  other.  Tell 
me!  I  insist  on  knowing  what  it  is.  If 
you  care  for  me  you  will  confide  in  me 
about  this.  You  must  see  how  cruelly  un- 
fair it  is  to  tell  me  that  you  can't  marry 
me  and  to  refuse  to  even  let  me  know  the 
reason.  Tell  me!  Even  if  it  is  something 
which  prevents  our  marrying  now,  the  dif- 
ficulty may  be  surmounted  in  a  few  years* 
time.    Tell  me." 


THE   HOCKEY  MATCH         253 

Ljnin  started  and  turned  toward  him,  her 
face  suddenly  flhunmated. 

"Do  you?"  she  cried,  breathlessly,  "do 
you  —  oh,  it  isn't  right,  I  oughtn't  to  ask 
it  —  but  do  you  care  enough  to  wait  —  to 
wait  —  perhaps,  for  a  year,  or  even  two 
years  and  keep  our  —  the  engagement  se- 
cret?'' 

"Why,  of  course  I  do.  What's  two 
years  against  a  life-time  ?  But,  L3Fnn,  I 
don't  like  secrecy.  Can't  you  tell  me  what 
all  this  means?" 

She  paused,  then  spoke,  weighing  each 
word,  carefully. 

"I  have  a  trouble,  a  care;  something 
which  prevents  me  from  even  thinking  of 
marriage.  It  concerns  other  people  and  I 
can  tell  you  nothing  about  it.  But,  at  any 
time,  I  —  may  be  released  from  it.  Per- 
haps in  a  week  —  perhaps  not  for  years  — 
but  eventually  —  I  shall  be  free  —  broken- 
hearted and  old  with  grief  —  but  free.  Till 
then.  And  even  then,  understand  clearly, 
Gerald,  I  can  explain,  nothing  —  nothing: 
Now  I  have  told  you  the  truth  so  far  as 
I  am  able:  and  you  see  for  yourself  how 
hopeless  it  is.    Leave  me.    I  am  plain  and 


254  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

sad  and  old.  Marry  some  one  else,  Gerald, 
and  forget  me." 

"  Some  one  else !  Lynn,  my  dear,  dear 
girl,  you  don't  know  what  nonsense  you're 
talking.  Only  say  that  you'll  marry  me 
—  promise  me  that  —  and  everything  else 
may  slide.  To-morrow  —  a  year  —  three 
years  —  what  does  it  matter,  as  long  as 
you  come  to  me  in  the  end?  " 

"  But  —  no  one  must  know  —  oh,  Gerald, 
it  can't  be  right  to  hold  you.     I  shouldn't." 

"  Perfectly  right  and  perfectly  wise ;  if, 
for  any  reason,  you  are  obliged  to  keep  it 
secret.  Only,  Lynn,  you  must  promise  me 
one  thing.  The  moment  that  you  are  re- 
leased from  your  obligation,  whatever  it 
may  be,  you  must  tell  me.  Promise  me 
that  you  will  let  no  false  motives  of  deli- 
cacy stand  in  your  way,  but  will  come  and 
tell  me  that  you  are  ready  to  marry  me,  the 
instant  that  the  obstacle  is  removed.  I 
won't  even  ask  what  it  is;  I  shall  only  ask 
that  you  promise  me  this." 

And  Lynn  promised. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

A   SCANDAL   VERIFIED 

"I'm  not  denying  that  women  are  foolish:    God  Almighty 
made  'em  to  match  the  men."  —  George  Eliot. 

"•GRACIOUS,    man!     do    give    those 

1     TT  unfortunate  eyes  of  yours  a  rest. 

I   should   think   they   would   ache, 

the  way  you  roll  them.     Besides,  it's  such 

a  waste  of  time  to  make  eyes  at  me." 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  I  suppose  it  keeps  you  in  practice," 
Miss  Bent  remarked,  sardonically. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon?  " 

"  I  said,"  repeated  Miss  Bent,  slowly  and 
deliberately,  "  that  I  supposed  that  —  it 
— kept  —  you  —  in  practice  —  to  —  make — 
eyes  —  at  —  me !  " 

"  It  does.  But  that's  not  the  only  reason 
I  do  it." 

Miss  Bent  eyed  him  with  extreme  dis- 
favour. 


256  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  How  silly  you  are,"  she  said,  snub- 
bingly. 

"  Now  that's  unworthy  of  you,"  her  com- 
panion returned.  "  Its  rudeness  is  worthy 
of  you,  but  not  its  stupidity.  Ordinarily 
your  remarks  are  witty,  even  when  they  are 
rude,  but  this  "  — 

"  Has  only  truth  to  recommend  it." 

"  I  don't  care  for  verbal  gymnastics." 

"  Your  likes  and  dislikes  are  not "  — 

"A  matter  of  interest  to  you?  no,  I  sup- 
pose not.  And  you  see  that  relieves  me 
from  considering  yours.  Take  the  present 
case,  for  instance.  I  feel  like  making  eyes, 
as  you  rudely  call  it,  at  you:  therefore  I 
make  them  "  — 

"And  make  them  very  badly!"  interpo- 
lated the  well-bred  Miss  Bent. 

"  You  are  no  judge,  being  by  nature  in- 
capable of  doing  anything  in  the  eye-ma- 
king way  at  all." 

"Ah!"  said  Miss  Bent,  reflectively, 
"  there  is  no  saying  how  well  I  might  make 
eyes  if  I  saw  anything  worth  making  eyes 
at.    But,  I  say,  don't  be  cross." 

"I'm  not!" 

"  No,  of  course  not :   but  don't,  anyway, 


A   SCANDAL   VERIFIED         257 

for  I  want  to  tell  you  something  and  some 
way  I  can't  talk  to  cross  people  "  — 

"  But  I  tell  you  I'm  not "  — 

"  Dear,  dear !  there  you  are  again  with 
a  face  flaming  with  rage,  interrupting  me 
and  contradicting  me." 

Mr.  Ogden  opened  his  mouth;  then  shut 
it  with  an  air  of  determination,  as  though 
he  really  might  have  replied,  had  he  chosen. 

"  And  now  you're  glaring  at  me  as  if  you 
were  beside  yourself  with  rage.  Why  don't 
you  try  to  be  reasonable?  " 

The  unhappy  Mr.  Ogden  stared  wildly 
but  ventured  no  remark. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  go  on  now,"  Miss 
Bent  said  in  a  rather  pointed  manner  when 
a  moment  of  silence  had  elapsed.  "  What 
I  began  to  tell  you  half  an  hour  ago  —  only 
you  would  keep  interrupting  me  —  was 
that  Mrs.  Hadwell  is  giving  all  sorts  of 
things  for  those  cousins,  or  whatever  they 
are,  of  hers  from  the  States.  And  she  has 
asked  me  to  a  theatre  party  and  a  tobog- 
ganing party,  so  I  think  I  ought  to  give 
something  for  them.  What  would  you 
suggest  ?  " 

Mr.  Ogden  looked  perplexed. 


258  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Surely  you're  not  sulking  all  this 
time!  "  said  Miss  Bent,  rather  sadly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  I  never 
sulk." 

"  Then,  perhaps,  instead  of  sulking,  you 
will  answer  my  question,"  said  Miss  Bent 
with  asperity. 

Mr.  Ogden  laughed. 

"  I  should  suggest  a  drive,"  he  hazarded. 
"  A  drive  by  moonlight  and  a  supper  after- 
wards." 

**  Perhaps  that  would  be  the  best  plan," 
said  Miss  Bent,  thoughtfully.  "  Who 
would  you  ask?  " 

"  Me,  for  one." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  —  O  dear! 
has  my  snowshoe  come  off,  again?" 

"  Let  me  fix  it." 

"What  do  you  suppose  is  the  reason?" 

"The  reason?  You  didn't  let  me  do  it 
at  the  start." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  you  can  attend  to 
my  snowshoes  better  than  I  can  myself." 

"  I  do,  indeed." 

"  Well,  don't  start  to  argue  about  that, 
please  don't.  I  haven't  seen  you  for  such 
a  long  time  and  there  are  such  a  lot  of 


A   SCANDAL   VERIFIED         259 

things  that  I  want  to  say,  but  some  way, 
whenever  I  am  going  to  start,  something 
happens  to  prevent  me." 

"Your  snowshoe,  for  instance?" 

"  Yes,  or  you.  You  begin  to  argue  about 
something.  Now  don't  be  cross!  I  sup- 
pose I  really  shouldn't  have  said  that, 
but "  — 

"  Oh,  it's  quite  true  that  I  occasionally 
make  a  remark." 

"Occasionally!" 

"  Very  occasionally,  yes.  When  people 
are  with  you  they  don't  talk  much  as  a 
rule.    Queer,  isn't  it?" 

"  I  suppose,"  said  his  companion  after 
thinking  deeply  for  a  moment,  "  that  what 
you  mean  is  that  they  don't  get  much 
chance." 

"  That  was  my  meaning,  exactly." 

"  I  can't  help  talking  a  little  sometimes, 
you  know,"  said  Miss  Bent,  icily 

"You  can't,  indeed!" 

"  No.  I  come  by  it  honestly.  My  own 
father  was  a  man!  " 

Silence  reigned,  unbroken  and  long.  The 
snowshoers  trudged  on  in  silence,  the  lady 
chuckling  delightedly  to  herself. 


26o         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  I  had  two  things  to  tell  you,"  she  re- 
marked, presently,  perceiving  that  her  com- 
panion was  unmoved  by  her  silence  and 
getting  very  tired  of  preserving  it. 

"Yes?" 

"  Yes.  The  second  one  is  gossip,  so  I 
suppose  I  shouldn't  "  — 

"  Oh,  but  you  will." 

"  Not,"  said  Miss  Bent,  impressively, 
"  not  unless  you  promise  solemnly  never 
to  tell  a  living  soul  about  it  —  especially 
not  Agatha!" 

"  Why  is  Agatha  to  be  debarred  from 
hearing  what  no  living  soul  may  know?  " 

"  Because,"  said  his  companion,  seriously, 
"Agatha  is  not  to  be  trusted.  She  can't 
keep  a  secret.  Oh,  you  needn't  laugh.  The 
person  who  told  me  this  said  the  same  thing 
to  me.  *  Don't  tell  anyone  about  this,'  she 
said,  most  earnestly,  '  and  whoever  you  tell, 
don't  tell  Agatha.'  " 

"  What  lack  of  confidence  you  two  se- 
cretive people  do  show  in  Agatha.  Why  is 
it?" 

"  In  the  first  place  because  she's  a  cat." 

^'  Doesn't  seem  conclusive.  I've  known 
cats  who  talked  less  than  some  ladies." 


A    SCANDAL    VERIFIED        261 

"  —  And  in  the  second  because  she's  her 
cousin." 

"Whose?    The  cat's?" 

"No.    Lynn  Thayer's." 

"  My  golf-balls !    Where  are  we  at?  " 

"  Why,  I'm  sure  I've  made  myself  plain 
enough,"  said  Miss  Bent,  looking  surprised. 

"  On  the  contrary  you've  made  yourself 
awfully  pretty  in  your  sporting  togs  but  you 
have  not  made  yourself  explicit." 

"You  silly  thing!  Don't  you  see  what  I 
mean?  It's  Lynn  Thayer  that  the  gossip's 
about." 

"  Oh,  Miss  Thayer,"  said  Ogden.  "  Then 
I  hardly  think  it's  true." 

"  Oh,  it  must  be.  This  person  saw  her. 
It  seemed  so  queer  she  could  hardly  believe 
her  eyes." 

"What  did?" 

"Why,  Lynn's  being  there  alone  at  that 
time  of  night.  Not  that  it  was  a  proper  place 
for  a  lady  at  any  time  " 

"What  place  wasn't?" 

"  Dear  me,  Neil,  you  are  stupid,  some- 
times.   Why,  St.  Eustache  St.  " 

"Whew!    St.  Eustache  St. !  " 

"  Yes,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night." 


262  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Nonsense." 

"It  isn't  nonsense.  Mabel  saw  her  — 
there !  I  let  out  the  name,  but  you  won't  tell 
anyone,  will  you?  —  at  all  events  you  won't 
mention  that  it  was  Mabel  " 

"  Mabel  be  —  wait  a  moment.  Your 
friend  saw  Miss  Thayer  —  at  eleven  o'clock 
at  night  on  St.  Eustache  St."  — 

"  Yes.  Coming  out  of  that  rackety  studio 
building  on  the  south  side,  where  unspeak- 
able beings  congregate." 

"What?  Oh,  look  here,  Kitty,  you 
mustn't  say  that.  You  don't  know  what 
you're  saying.  Your  friend,  whoever  she  is, 
made  a  mistake  —  a  big  mistake.  It  was 
not  Lynn  Thayer  she  saw  at  all  —  it  could 
not  possibly  have  been  —  and  she  does  a 
very  wrong  and  wicked  thing  in  spreading 
such  stories.  Now  what  I  want  you  to  do 
is" 

"  Neil,  one  would  think  I  was  fifteen. 
Do  you  suppose  Mabel  would  say  such  a 
thing  if  it  wasn't  true?  She  didn't  think 
at  first  that  it  could  be  Lynn,  though  she 
saw  her  distinctly;  and  so  she  followed 
her." 

Oh!    Well,  Kitty,  all  I  can  say  is  that 


t( 


A   SCANDAL   VERIFIED         263 

if  your  friend's  a  woman,  I'm  glad  I'm  a 
man.  By  the  way,  was  this  paragon 
alone?" 

"  Certainly  not.  She  and  her  husband 
had  been  to  the  French  theatre:  and,  as 
it  was  a  fine  night  they  decided  to  walk 
home.  Then  they  began  talking  about  how 
these  awful  old  streets  used  to  be  fashion- 
able, and  he  said  that  he  would  show  her 
an  interesting  old  house  in  St.  Eustache  St. 
So  they  went  there  and  he  pointed  it  out 
to  her  and  told  her  how  it  used  to  belong 

to  the  Duke  of  and  how  now  it  had 

degenerated  into  the  haunt  of  all  sorts  of 
people.  Just  as  he  was  saying  that  only 
confirmed  drunkards  and  opium  eaters  and 
things  ever  went  there  the  door  opened  — 
and,  to  their  infinite  astonishment,  Lynn 
Thayer  came  out." 

"Your  friend's  a" 

"  She  isn't.  She's  a  nice  woman  and  so 
is  her  husband  —  at  least  I  mean  he's  — 
well,  anyway,  they  followed  her  for  a  block 
or  two  and  she  called  a  closed  sleigh  and, 
just  for  fun,  they  got  into  another  and 
drove  behind  her.  She  went  up  to  Pine 
Avenue  and  so  they  began  to  think  that 


264  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

they  must  be  mistaken  when  —  what  do 
you  think?  —  she  got  out,  paid  the  cabman 
and  walked  back  to  her  aunt's  house !  There 
was  no  possible  mistake  about  it." 

Neil  trudged  along  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  Kitty,"  he  said  at  last,  "  there  seem  to 
be  only  two  interpretations  that  can  be  put 
on  that  story.  The  first  is  that  Lynn 
Thayer,  a  girl  who  has  always  been  con- 
sidered one  of  the  nicest  in  Montreal,  has 
done  an  unpardonable  thing;  the  second, 
that  your  friends  are  liars.  I  prefer  to 
think  the  latter  —  hello !  do  you  want  to 
run  over  us?    Where's  your  light?  " 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir.  I've  just  been  driv- 
ing a  lady  who  asked  me  to  put  it  out 
while  I  was  up  here.  I'll  light  it  right 
away." 

"  It's  not  right,  a  sleigh  going  at  that 
rate  without  light:  what  on  earth  could 
the  woman  have  meant  by  telling  him  to 
put  it  out.  She  must  be  —  well,  Kitty,  what 
on  earth  is  it?" 

"Hush!    Look!" 

He  looked.  A  woman  clad  in  a  long  dark 
cloak  and  wearing  a  heavy  veil  passed  them 


A   SCANDAL   VERIFIED         265 

with  averted  head  and  hasty  steps.  Her 
walk  and  figure  were  unmistakable.  She 
shrank  into  the  shadow  of  the  leafless  ma- 
ples and  descended  rapidly  citywards. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

MRS.   HADWELL'S   FANCY  DRESS   BALL 

"When  Youth  and  Pleasure  meet 
To  chase  the  glowing  hours  with  flying  feet." 

—  Byron. 

THERE  is  a  fascination  about  a 
fancy  dress  ball  which  appertains 
to  no  other  form  of  entertainment. 
The  excitement  of  seeing  one's  common- 
place acquaintances  blossoming  out,  under 
the  magic  influence  of  costume,  into  fairies, 
kings  and  cavaliers  is  one  which  never  palls. 
Interesting  it  is,  too,  to  observe  the  char- 
acters impersonated  and  to  note  how  clearly 
the  character  of  the  impersonator  is  ex- 
pressed in  his  choice.  Thus  Mrs.  Hadwell, 
on  the  evening  of  her  famous  ball,  appeared 
as  Titania,  clad  in  a  fluffy,  shimmering 
robe  of  mousseline,  which  was  further  em- 
bellished and  beautified  by  various  shining 
ornaments  and  clusters  of  hothouse  blooms. 
A  sparkling  diadem  crowned  her  rich  au- 

266 


MRS.    HADWELL'S    BALL       267 

burn  tresses  and  a  necklace  of  some  value 
glittered  on  her  neck.  Her  pretty  arms 
were  covered  with  bracelets  and  her  pret- 
tier feet  were  adorned  by  diamond-studded 
sandals.  She  moved  among  her  guests  a 
shining,  odorous,  "  form  of  faery,"  followed 
by  ejaculations  of  admiration  and  murmurs 
of  delight. 

Erma  Reed,  on  the  other  hand,  had 
wisely  chosen  the  dress  of  ancient  Greece: 
and  her  chiselled  features  showed  clearly 
cut  and  noble  beneath  the  chaplet  of  green 
leaves  which  lay  lightly  on  her  smooth, 
dark  locks;  while  her  flowing  robe  added 
distinction  and  grace  to  her  splendid  form, 
beside  which  the  puny,  slender  figures  of 
more  modern  beauties  seemed  mean  and 
artificial. 

Lynn  Thayer  came,  dressed  as  a  Red 
Cross  nurse.  "  Nothing  about  me  suggests 
the  heroine  of  history  or  romance,"  she 
said,  "  and  I  should  make  myself  ridiculous 
by  attempting  to  personate  anything  but 
an  ordinary,  everyday  woman."  She  made 
a  noble-looking  nurse,  however,  and  many 
turned  from  the  more  fancifully  attired 
dames   to  watch   her   sympathetic   counte- 


268  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

nance:  some  thinking,  as  they  did  so,  that 
hers  was  a  face  that  they  would  Hke  to  see 
in  moments  of  illness  or  depression.  Oth- 
ers there  were,  though,  who  watched  her 
covertly  and  whispered  stealthily  to  one 
another  as  she  passed:  and  Lynn  noted 
with  surprise  that  Neil  Ogden,  who  was 
standing  by  Kitty  Bent,  looked  down  hast- 
ily as  he  saw  her  approaching  and  made 
no  sign  of  recognition.  Nor  did  Kitty  seem 
anxious  to  return  her  bow. 

The  twins  in  whose  honour  the  affair  had 
been  contrived  attracted  more  attention 
than  all  the  other  guests  put  together. 
They  were  in  mad  spirits  and  seemed  un- 
able to  keep  apart,  hurrying  to  one  an- 
other's side  as  soon  as  each  dance  was  fin- 
ished and  whispering  and  laughing  to- 
gether in  unrestrained  fashion.  Bert  was 
attired  as  Mark  Antony  in  flowing  Egyp- 
tian robes,  donned,  as  he  explained,  after 
he  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Ser- 
pent of  the  Nile:  and  he  handled  the  crim- 
son, voluminous  garments  with  a  grace 
which  called  forth  more  than  one  admiring 
comment  from  his  partners.  Their  com- 
pliments were  invariably   received  with  a 


MRS.    HADWELL'S    BALL       269 

stifled  giggle:  in  fact  Bert's  manners,  as 
a  whole,  did  not  show  their  usual  reserve 
and  good  breeding.  Still  the  handsome, 
boyish  face  above  the  crimson  draperies 
was  so  alight  with  good  humour;  the  black 
eyes  were  so  unaccountably  mischievous 
and  the  olive  cheeks  so  becomingly  flushed 
that  the  most  exigeant  of  his  uncle's  guests 
could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  be  really 
severe  until  —  but  that,  as  Mr.  Kipling  says, 
is  another  story. 

As  for  his  sister,  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no 
other  girl  created  such  a  sensation.  It  was 
not  only  her  appearance,  though  that  was 
sufficiently  striking,  but  the  wild  gayety 
and  vivacity  of  her  demeanour  that  made 
her  the  cynosure  of  every  eye.  She  was 
dressed  as  a  lady  of  the  French  court  in  a 
tightly  fitting  gown  of  French  brocade  with 
trailing  draperies :  and  her  eyes  looked  even 
darker  and  brighter  than  their  wont  be- 
neath the  high  structure  of  powdered  hair 
which  the  dress  demanded.  The  pink  and 
white  brocade  and  the  crimson  robe  of 
Egypt  were  so  frequently  seen  in  absorbed 
conversation  that  the  twinly  devotion  of 
Mrs.  Hadwell's  connections  was  a  favourite 


270         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

topic  of  conversation  at  the  beginning  of 
the  evening.  Later  on,  I  regret  to  say  — 
but  here  again  I  anticipate. 

Agatha  Ladilaw,  dressed  as  the  Queen  of 
the  Roses,  received  her  usual  meed  of  praise 
and  attention.  Her  three  lovers  followed 
her  around  with  dog-like  devotion;  and 
many  others,  seeing  what  a  magnet  she  was 
for  three  of  the  conflicting  sex,  hastened 
to  make  her  acquaintance  in  order  to  dis- 
cover for  themselves  what  the  attraction 
was.  Agatha,  in  consequence,  became  more 
than  ever  convinced  that  she  was  bound  to 
make  the  best  match  of  any  girl  who  had 
come  out  that  year;  and  considered  more 
seriously  than  before  the  advisability  of 
adding  a  still  more  eligible  fourth  to  her 
list  of  fiances.  Among  the  many  who 
sunned  themselves  in  her  smiles  was  Har- 
old Lighton,  who  found  her  gaze  of  re- 
spectful attention  and  her  eager  and  smi- 
ling responses  so  soothing  after  his  late  re- 
verses that  he  insisted  on  sitting  out  sev- 
eral dances  with  her  in  order  that  he  might 
give  her  further  particulars  of  her  cousin's 
cruelty;  which  cruelty  she  almost  wept 
over. 


MRS.    HADWELL'S    BALL       271 

"  She's  such  a  queer  girl,  Mr.  Lighton," 
she  said,  shyly  yet  impulsively,  "  oh,  I  know 
she's  my  own  cousin  and  perhaps  I  oughtn't 
to  say  so  but  "  — 

"Isn't  she?"  inquired  the  disconsolate 
lover,  eagerly.  "  As  you're  her  cousin,  I 
suppose  I  can  say  so  "  — 

"  Anything  you  say,"  said  Agatha,  dim- 
pling seraphically,  "  is  quite  safe  with  me, 
Mr.  Lighton  —  anything!"  She  raised  her 
deep,  soulful  eyes  to  him  with  an  air  of  rapt 
attention  and  Mr.  Lighton  found  himself 
murmuring  involuntarily,  "  What  a  charm- 
ing girl ! " 

"  All  I  was  going  to  say  was,"  he  con- 
tinued, returning  to  the  attack,  but  half  for- 
getting his  griefs  in  the  joy  of  finding  such 
an  intelligent  listener,  "  that  your  cousin 
really  doesn't  treat  a  fellow  fairly.  Now 
she  won't  listen  to  anything  a  fellow  tries 
to  tell  her.  All  she  will  say  is,  *  Surely  we 
have  discussed  this  often  enough,  Mr.  Ligh- 
ton; do  talk  of  something  else!'  Now, 
hang  it  all,  Miss  Ladilaw,  that's  rude ! " 

"  I  should  think  it  was,"  exclaimed  Aga- 
tha, looking  appropriately  shocked  and 
grieved  and  inwardly  wondering  whether 


272  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

any  man  could  spend  an  hour  in  her  society 
and  bestow  a  thought  afterwards  on  a  plain 
girl  like  Lynn. 

"  And  then,  when  I  tell  her  she  is  rude, 
all  she  will  say  is,  '  I  wonder  you  come  to 
see  me  so  often  when  I  am  so  unpleasant 
and  there  are  so  many  nice  girls  in  the 
world.'  "    He  paused. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Agatha,  softly,  wondering 
inwardly  why  he  did ;  and  wondering,  more- 
over, whether  it  was  too  soon  to  ask  him 
to  drop  in  some  quiet  evening  when  she 
was  quite  sure  of  having  no  other  callers, 
in  order  that  they  might  the  more  fully 
discuss  her  cousin's  iniquities. 

"  And  then  to  have  her  add  the  finishing 
touch  by  refusing  me  outright  after  all  the 
time  I've  spent  on  " 

"  What?  "  said  Agatha,  startled,  for  once, 
out  of  all  semblance  of  good  manners. 
Was  the  man  in  earnest?  Had  he  actually 
proposed?  and  had  the  fool  —  for  no  other 
word  seemed  appropriately  to  describe  her 
cousin  —  had  the  fool  refused  him?  Aga- 
tha gasped  and  caught  her  breath.  Refused 
him!  refused  a  horse  and  carriage  and  a 
nice  house  and  a  trip   to   Europe  if  she 


MRS.    HADWELL'S    BALL       273 

wanted  it?  Agatha  could  scarcely  regain 
her  composure. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  she  refused  me,"  reiterated 
the  Rejected  One,  indignantly.  "  And  she 
not  only  refused  me  but  she  told  me  that 
I  would  thank  her  for  her  refusal  ten  years 
hence." 

"  Mr.  Lighton,"  Agatha's  voice  was  sol- 
emn —  "  Do  you  —  I  don't  suppose  you  do, 
but  —  excuse  my  asking  —  do  you  still  want 
to  marry  her?  " 

"  I  should  rather  think  I  did,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Lighton,  staring.  "  Never  was  so  dead 
gone  on  any  girl  in  my  life.  But  it's  no 
use;  I  may  as  well  make  up  my  mind 
to" 

"  Mr.  Lighton,  if  it  is  any  satisfaction  to 
you,  I  shall  speak  to  my  cousin.  I  cannot 
feel,"  Agatha  continued,  raising  her  big 
eyes  almost  tearfully  to  her  companion's 
face,  "  I  cannot  feel  that  it  is  right  to  let 
my  cousin  refuse  such  an  offer  —  I  mean, 
such  an  honest  and  manly  love  as  yours  — 
without,  at  any  rate,  trying  to  show  her  how 
—  how  wicked  it  is.  For,"  said  Agatha 
with  righteous  indignation,  "  for  what  is 
Lynn,  anyway?     A  public  school  teacher! 


274         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

And  whom  else  is  she  going  to  get  if  she 
refuses  you?  Nobody!  And  I  don't  care 
whether  she  likes  it  or  not  I'm  going  to 
put  her  conduct  before  her  in  the  right 
light." 

"  That's  the  stuff,"  said  Mr.  Lighton,  de- 
lightedly. **  You're  a  fine  little  girl,  that's 
what:  and  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  if  you  do 
make  any  impression  on  her  —  which,"  said 
Mr.  Lighton,  relapsing  into  despondency, 
"  which  you  won't,  for  she's  as  stubborn  as 
a  —  but,  if  you  should  —  why,  all  I  can  say 
is,  I'll  never  forget  it." 

Agatha  had,  as  all  ladies  who  follow  the 
time-honoured  sport  of  man-hunting  must 
have,  an  eye  to  all  contingencies.  She  im- 
pulsively clasped  her  companion's  big  hand 
in  her  two  small  ones  now  as  she  mur- 
mured, feelingly: 

"  Don't  think  that  I  am  intruding,  Mr. 
Lighton,  but,  if  this  should  be  a  failure  — 
and  no  one  can  tell  anything  where  Lynn 
is  concerned  —  always  remember  that  you 
have  one  friend,  anyway." 

"  I  won't  forget  it,"  responded  Mr.  Ligh- 
ton with  alacrity.  Nice  little  thing!  Pity 
her  cousin  wasn't  more  like  her,  that  was 


MRS.    HADWELL'S    BALL       275 

all  he  could  say.  And  yet,  confound  it  all! 
there  was  something  about  the  other  —  he 
couldn't  help  liking  her  in  spite  of  every- 
thing—  but,  whatever  happened,  this  little 
thing  was  worth  cultivating.  He  won- 
dered, as  Agatha  with  a  sympathetic  smile 
and  an  air  of  stern  resolve  gathered  up  her 
pink  draperies  and  departed  in  search  of 
her  cousin  what  the  outcome  of  it  would 
be.  Well!  he  would  soon  know,  at  all 
events. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

AGATHA  "DOES  HER  DUTY"  AND  IS  REWARDED 

"  Shall  a  woman's  virtues  move 
Me  to  perish  for  her  love? 
Or  her  well-deservings  known 
Make  me  quite  forget  my  own? 
If  she  slight  me  when  I  woo 
I  can  scorn  and  let  her  go." 

—  G.  Wither. 

PAST  Boadicea,  reclining  against  a 
marble  heater  and  conversing  with 
Mephistopheles;  past  Joan  of  Arc, 
flirting  vigorously  with  Torquemeda;  past 
the  Queen  of  the  Fairies,  chatting  to  a 
miscellaneous  group  of  knights  and  de- 
mons; past  every  variety  of  hero  and  lady 
fair  went  the  self-sacrificing  Agatha,  intent 
on  her  altruistic  aim.  "  For,"  as  she  mut- 
tered to  herself,  "  if  he  has  proposed  to  her, 
already,  it  isn't  very  likely  that  he  will 
change  for  a  little  while,  anyway,  and  I 
want  to  be  married  before  any  of  the  other 
girls.  Besides  it  wouldn't  be  half  so  nice 
to  marry  a  man  who  had  been  refused  by 

276 


AGATHA  "  DOES  HER  DUTY "  277 

your  own  cousin;  though  every  one  would 
think  you  had  cut  her  out  and  Lynn  is  so 
funny  that  she  would  probably  just  giggle 
and  say  nothing,  so  it  wouldn't  matter 
much.  But,  as  matters  stand,  I  think  it 
would  be  really  wicked  to  let  Lynn  actu- 
ally refuse  him,  particularly  when  I  can  get 
so  many  others:  and,  once  they  are  mar- 
ried, she  will  be  grateful  to  me  as  well  as 
he  and  they  will  have  a  nice  home  and 
entertain  a  lot  and  I  can  be  their  brides- 
maid and  everyone  will  say  how  much  pret- 
tier I  am  than  the  bride  and  "  —  At  this 
moment  she  caught  sight  of  her  quarry. 

Lynn  had  been  dancing  and  had  just 
come  out  to  the  hall  in  search  of  a  vacant 
chair  or  stair  when  she  saw  a  vision  of  pink 
tulle  gazing  at  her  with  such  an  unusual 
amount  of  feeling  and  expressiveness  that, 
with  a  hasty  excuse,  she  dropped  her  part- 
ner's arm  and  hurried  to  her  small  cousin's 
side. 

"  Agatha,"  she  exclaimed,  wonderingly. 
"  What  is  it?  Is  anything  the  matter?  Do 
you  want  me?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  responded  Agatha,  sol- 
emnly. 


278  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Then  just  let  me  speak  to  Mr.  Barnes 
a  moment  and  explain  why  I  am  going: 
then  we  can  run  upstairs  to  Del's  little  sit- 
ting-room and  talk  quietly." 

This  programme  was  carried  out;  and, 
when  they  were  safely  ensconced  behind 
closed  doors,  Lynn  turned  eagerly  to  her 
cousin. 

"  Now,  Agatha !  "  she  said. 

Agatha  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

"  Lynn,"  she  said  with  portentous  solem- 
nity, "  I  don't  know  what  you  will  think  of 
me  and  I  don't  care.  Some  one  has  got 
to  talk  to  you." 

Lynn  stared  in  amazement,  wondering  if 
her  thrice-engaged  cousin  objected  to  her 
dancing  twice  with  the  same  man:  she 
could  think  of  no  other  enormity  of  which 
she  had  been  guilty  that  evening. 

"  I  have  been  sitting  out  a  couple  of 
dances  with  Mr.  Lighton,  and  he  became 
unusually  confidential,"  went  on  Agatha, 
turning  almost  pale:  "and  he  tells  me," 
pausing  impressively,  "  he  tells  me  that  you 
—  have  —  refused  —  him." 

"  He  tells  the  truth,"  responded  Lynn, 
looking  annoyed,   "  and   all   I   can   say  is, 


AGATHA  "DOES  HER  DUTY"  279 

Agatha,  that  if  you  have  torn  me  away 
from  the  dance  "  — 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  Agatha,  ear- 
nestly. "  This  is  very  important  to  me, 
Lynn.  It  isn't  only  that  I  feel  sorry  that 
you,  being  my  cousin,  should  be  so  foolish 
as  to  refuse  him,  once;  but  what  I  want 
to  know  is,  —  did  you  mean  it?" 

"  Assuredly  I  did,"  said  Lynn,  staring. 

"  You  meant,"  said  Agatha,  pathetically, 
"  you  really  meant,  Lynn,  to  refuse  that 
nice  house  and  "  — 

"  Yes,  and  that  nice  horse,  too,"  ex- 
claimed Lynn,  turning  red.  "  Upon  my 
word  this  is  too  much!  I  can  stand  Aunt 
Lucy  and  Del,  but  when  it  comes  to  you, 
Agatha  —  understand  once  for  all  that  I 
meant  to  refuse  that  nice  house  and  that 
good-sized  yard  at  the  back  and  that  com- 
modious stable  with  all  that  it  contains  — 
not  even  excepting  the  horse  which  every 
one  seemed  to  think  that  I  would  accept 
with  tears  of  rapture,  despite  the  fact  that 
it  was  encumbered  with  a  master  whom  I 
should  have  to  accept,  likewise,  as  they  are 
inseparable." 

"Oh,   Lynn,   dear!    such   a   lot   of  long 


28o  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

words  and  such  a  temper  and  all  because  I 
tried  to  advise  you  for  your  own  good." 

"  Agatha,  I  give  you  fair  warning  that  I 
shall  gently  but  firmly  assassinate  the  very 
next  person  who  tries  to  advise  me  for  my 
own  good." 

Agatha  sat  for  a  moment,  absorbed  in 
thought. 

"  Lynn,"  she  said,  presently,  "  does  any- 
one know  that  you  have  refused  Mr.  Ligh- 
ton?" 

"  Not  unless  he  has  chosen  to  tell  any- 
one. I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  publishing 
every  offer  I  receive  in  the  daily  papers, 
which  is  one  reason  why  some  people  sup- 
pose that  I  never  get  any." 

"  Then,"  said  Agatha,  thinking  deeply, 
"  I  suppose,  Lynn,  you  will  not  mind  if  I 
advise  you  not  to  —  not  to  tell  anyone? 
Do  you  remember  what  you  said  to  me 
about  those  things  —  proposals  and  en- 
gagements and  things,  you  know!  —  well, 
at  the  time  I  did  say  I  thought  it  was  fool- 
ish not  to  tell  when  people  proposed  to  you 
because  then  lots  of  people,  as  you  say, 
think  you  never  get  any  —  but  since  then 
I  have  changed  my  mind;   I  really  think  it 


AGATHA  "  DOES  HER  DUTY "  281 

is  more  sensible  not  to  —  particularly  in 
your  case  where  it  would  be  so  embarrass- 
ing for  Mr.  Lighton  if  he  were  attentive  to 
some  girl." 

Lynn  burst  out  laughing. 

"  I  never  in  my  life  told  on  any  man  who 
was  misguided  enough  to  ask  me  to  marry 
him.  I  have  always  felt  that  the  pain  of 
feeling  that  he  had  so  lowered  himself  was 
punishment  enough  for  any  crime." 

"  Why,  Lynn,  I  don't  quite  see  what 
you  mean,"  said  Agatha,  patient  but  bewil- 
dered. 

"  This  is  all  I  mean,"  said  Lynn,  gravely. 
"  If  you  have  any  idea  of  going  in  for  Ligh- 
ton—  and  certainly  his  house  is  all  that 
could  be  desired  —  why,  don't  feel  as  you 
walk  up  the  aisle  in  veil  and  orange  blos- 
soms that  I  am  whispering  to  my  nearest 
acquaintance,  '  I  could  have  had  that  man 
if  I  had  wanted  him.'  " 

"  But,"  said  Agatha,  timidly,  "  suppose 
such  a  thing  did  happen  —  it  would  not  be 
very  nice  for  you,  Lynn,  to  think  that  peo- 
ple were  saying  that  I  had  cut  you  out. 
That  is  the  first  thing  that  Mrs.  Langham- 
Greene  would  think." 


282  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  I  can  think  of  nothing  at  the  moment 
less  likely  to  worry  me  than  Mrs.  Lang- 
ham-Greene's  thoughts  concerning  me." 

"  Oh,  how  queer  you  are ! "  said  Agatha, 
opening  her  eyes  widely.  "  Then,  Lynn, 
if  you  should  hear  —  well,  anything!  you 
won't  mind.  For  there  is  still  time  for  you 
to  change  your  mind,  you  know ;  and  really 
he's  very  fond  of  you,  and  his  house  "  — 

"Has  only  one  drawback!  Now  don't 
dare  to  tell  him  I  said  that,  Agatha,  or  "  — 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  what  you  did  say," 
responded  Agatha,  patiently.  "  You  say 
such  queer  things,  Lynn,  that  half  the  time 
I  don't  know  what  you're  driving  at.  At 
all  events,  however,  as  I  understand,  you 
are  quite  determined  not  to  accept  Mr. 
Lighton." 

"  Quite." 

"  Then,"  said  Agatha,  dimpling  bewitch- 
ingly  and  adjusting  her  rose  wreath  with 
an  air  of  satisfaction,  "  then,  Lynn,  I  must 
just  go  and  tell  him  so,  I  suppose." 

She  found  the  Rejected  sitting  where  she 
had  left  him,  and  gazing  disconsolately  into 
space.  He  brightened  a  little  as  she  sat 
down  beside  him. 


AGATHA  "  DOES  HER  DUTY "  283 

"You  had  no  luck,  I  suppose?"  he  re- 
marked, tentatively. 

"  Mr.  Lighton,"  cooed  Agatha,  softly, 
"  she  is  not  worthy  of  you.  She  is  my 
own  cousin,  but  I  can't  help  saying  so." 

Mr.  Lighton  turned  a  rich,  ripe  tan  col- 
our, the  nearest  approach  to  a  flush  of  rage 
that  his  skin  was  capable  of  attaining. 

"Made  fun  of  me,  I  suppose?"  he  que- 
ried in  tones  of  stifled  fury.  "  Oh,  you 
needn't  try  to  smooth  it  over.  Miss  Ladi- 
law!    I  know  that  tongue  of  hers  too  well." 

"  Well,"  said  Agatha,  commiseratingly, 
"  I  must  say,  Mr.  Lighton,  that  she  might 
have  been  nicer.  It's  one  thing  to  refuse 
a  man  and  another  to  make  jokes  about  it. 
Not  that  she  said  much,  you  know,  but 
there  was  one  speech  about  your  house 
having  only  one  drawback  "  — 

"  That,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lighton  in  a 
burst  of  horrible  enlightenment,  "  was  Me!  " 

"  I  am  afraid  so,"  said  Agatha,  softly. 
"  But  please  don't  tell  any  one  I  repeated 
it,  Mr.  Lighton.  I  really  shouldn't  have, 
you  know.  But  I  felt  so  disturbed  and 
angry  at  the  idea  of  any  one  belonging  to 
me  being  so  heartless  "  — 


284  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Six  months  later  when  Miss  Agatha 
Ladilaw,  "  the  prettiest  debutante  of  the 
former  season,"  made  "  the  match  of  the 
year/'  Lynn  felt  rather  hurt  at  the  de- 
meanour of  both  bride  and  groom  toward 
her. 

"  I  was  disagreeable,"  she  reflected,  "  but 
he  brought  it  on  himself  and  I  can't  under- 
stand why  the  mention  of  my  name  should 
invariably  produce  a  chill  in  the  Ladilaw 
household.  Agatha,  at  least,  has  nothing 
to  blame  me  for." 

Agatha  and  Agatha's  husband,  however, 
agreed  in  seeing  as  little  as  possible  of  Aga- 
tha's cousin  and  in  acting  as  coldly  as  was 
consistent  with  politeness  whenever  they 
did  meet  her.  This,  Society  thought,  was 
owing  to  the  fact  that  poor  Miss  Thayer 
had  cherished  useless  aspirations  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  Lighton  house,  herself.  Poor 
Miss  Thayer! 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE   TWINS   UNDER  A   NEW  ASPECT 

"Haste  thee,  nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest  and  youthful  jollity." 

—  Milton. 

THE  fun  was  at  its  height.  The 
most  delightful  waltz  of  the  eve- 
ning had  just  concluded  and 
streams  of  gaily  dressed  forms  poured  in 
the  direction  of  the  balcony.  It  was  mid- 
winter and  the  thermometer  stood  at  five 
below:  yet  more  than  one  couple  strolled 
out  on  the  balcony  and  stood,  contracting 
lung  trouble  and  pneumonia,  while  they 
gazed  enraptured  at  the  beautiful  panorama 
which  spread  beneath  them.  The  city  was 
a  mass  of  glittering  lights,  seen  through 
the  delicate  pencilled  branches  of  bare  ma- 
ples and  willows ;  and  seemed  to  the  watch- 
ers as  though  lying  hundreds  of  feet  below 
Hadwell  Heights.  At  the  foot  of  the  high 
hill  on  which  the  house  was  built  lay  Pine 

285 


286  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Avenue,  thronged  with  couples  arrayed  in 
sporting  garb  and  bent  on  their  way  to  the 
toboggan  sHde  at  the  back  of  the  mountain. 
Less  often  a  party  of  snowshoers  would 
rush  past  on  their  ungainly  footgear:  an 
object  of  little  amusement  to  the  Canadians 
but  one  of  never-failing  interest  to  the 
Americans:  and,  less  frequently  still,  a 
couple  of  men  on  skis.  The  twins,  who 
never  thought  of  colds  or  of  precautions 
against  them,  spent  most  of  their  time  be- 
tween the  dances  in  standing  in  the  most 
exposed  part  of  the  balcony  and  watching 
the  passers-by  until  the  icy  winds  which 
whirled  around  drove  them  indoors,  shiv- 
ering but  happy. 

Bertie  seemed  to-night  as  though  pos- 
sessed of  some  demon  of  mischief  and  un- 
rest. She  confessed  to  a  rather  bad  cold 
already,  but  it  detracted  nothing  from  her 
appearance  though  it  affected  her  usually 
sweet  voice,  rendering  it  hoarse  and 
strained.  No  entreaties  could  keep  her 
from  the  icy  balcony,  though,  and  her  part- 
ners soon  stopped  making  them  and  de- 
voted themselves  to  carrying  on  the  flirta- 
tions which  she  seemed  determined  to  push 


THE    TWINS  287 

to  the  utmost  limit.  Never  had  any  of  her 
Canadian  admirers  seen  her  in  such  a 
mood;  her  usual  gay,  but  rather  reserved 
manner  had  given  place  to  the  one  com- 
monly attributed  to  the  American  girl  in 
foreign  fiction.  Her  partners  were  at  first 
amazed,  then  flattered  at  her  open  and 
eager  anxiety  for  their  attentions;  but 
some,  including  Donovan,  her  companion 
of  the  hockey  match,  who  had  come  to  like 
and  admire  the  pretty  Ohio  girl,  were 
rather  repelled  and  disgusted  at  the  change 
in  her.  Toward  the  end  of  the  evening  his 
disgust  reached  a  climax.  An  extremely 
shy  and  painfully  proper  youth  to  whom 
Bertie  had  begged  him  to  introduce  her  at 
the  beginning  of  the  evening,  had  just 
emerged  from  sitting  out  a  dance  with  her 
and  had  asked  Donovan  to  have  a  smoke 
with  him  in  Mr.  Hadwell's  "  den,"  which, 
for  this  night,  was  given  over  to  the  needs 
of  the  dancers.  On  Donovan's  assenting, 
Mr.  Simcoe,  the  shy  youth,  had  unfolded  a 
tale  of  horror.  He  had  come  up  for  his 
dance  with  Miss  Hadwell  when  she,  with- 
out a  word  of  apology,  had  piloted  him  in 
the  direction  of  the  stairs,  murmuring,  as 


288  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

she  did  so,  "  We  don't  want  to  dance,  do 
we?  We  can  do  better  than  that."  On  his 
expressing  his  willingness  to  do  as  she 
wished  she  had  squeezed  his  arm  and  in- 
formed him  in  an  ecstatic  whisper  that  he 
was  a  duck,  a  perfect  duck,  and  that  she 
was  going  to  show  him  a  nice  little  cubby 
hole  behind  some  curtains  at  the  end  of  the 
hall  which  she  was  sure  Mrs.  Hadwell  must 
have  fixed  expressly  for  them.  "  Of 
course,"  Mr.  Simcoe  had  remarked,  nerv- 
ously, "  of  course  I  couldn't  refuse  to  go, 
Donovan."  Donovan,  looking  very  grim, 
had  agreed  'with  him :  of  course  he  could 
not.  So,  it  appeared,  they  had  gone.  Mr. 
Simcoe  had  seemed  unwilling  to  divulge 
the  secrets  of  his  prison  house  but  had  gone 
so  far  as  to  hint  that  ladies  who  asked  fel- 
lows to  kiss  them  on  so  short  an  acquaint- 
ance were  not  in  his  line.  Donovan  had 
informed  him  here  that  gentlemen  did  not, 
as  a  rule,  "  kiss  and  tell  " :  and  had  refused 
to  listen  further,  regardless  of  Mr.  Simcoe's 
anguished  explanation.  "  But  I  didn't, 
Donovan!  hang  it  all,  it  was  she  who  in- 
sisted, you  know,  and  she  can't  blame  me 
for  speaking  of  it."     Donovan  had  walked 


THE   TWINS  289 

off  in  a  furious  rage,  awakened,  not  so 
much  by  Mr.  Simcoe's  lack  of  gallantry 
as  by  Miss  Hadwell's  lack  of  common  sense 
and  good  breeding. 

If  Miss  Bertie's  conduct  gave  rise  to  com- 
ment, what  shall  be  said  of  Mr.  Bert's?  It 
is  safe  to  say  that  never  before  in  a  Mon- 
treal drawing-room  had  any  gentleman  dis- 
ported himself  with  such  amazing  freedom. 
Before  many  dances  had  transpired  omi- 
nous whispers  might  have  been  heard 
among  the  young  ladies  who  had  been 
honoured  with  his  partnership;  and  it  was 
a  matter  of  common  observation  that, 
toward  the  end  of  the  evening,  several  of 
his  companions  flatly  refused  to  "  sit  out " 
dances  which  he  had  engaged,  earlier.  The 
most  amazing  snub  which  he  received  came 
from  Miss  Reed,  who,  on  his  reminding  her 
that  she  had  promised  him  the  eighteenth 
dance,  had  answered  in  tones  of  ice,  "  So 
sorry,  Mr.  Hadwell,  but  I  never  dance  — 
except  with  gentlemen !  "  This  was  merely 
the  climax  of  a  series  of  unpleasant  remarks 
which  had  been  showered  upon  him;  but, 
coming  from  Miss  Reed,  who  was  known 
to  have  absorbed  all  his  time  and  attention 


290  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

until  that  evening,  it  was  expected  to  have 
had  a  chiUing  effect  upon  him.  This,  how- 
ever, was  far  from  being  the  case.  "  I  may 
not  be  exactly  a  gentleman.  Miss  Reed,"  he 
had  returned  with  the  utmost  sangfroid, 
"  but  "  —  At  this  moment  he  had  caught 
sight  of  his  sister's  eye,  fixed  on  him  with 
a  look  in  which  rage  and  consternation 
were  strangely  blended;  and  breaking  off 
abruptly,  he  had  left  Erma's  side,  his  manly 
shoulders  shaking  visibly.  Bertie  had  held 
a  hasty  and  agitated  conversation  with  him; 
and  the  twinly  devotion  which  had  so  im- 
pressed the  assembled  company  when  the 
dance  commenced  was  apparently  conspic- 
uous by  its  absence. 

In  the  midst  of  the  dance  Mrs.  Hadwell 
was  seen  to  leave  the  room,  hastily,  in 
response  to  a  whispered  message  from  a 
housemaid.  When  she  returned  her  eyes 
were  sparkling  mischievously  and  her  whole 
demeanour  was  charged  with  importance. 
Presently  she  beckoned  confidentially  to 
Mrs.  Langham-Greene,  who  stood,  resplen- 
dent in  pale  green  draperies  and  water 
lilies,  a  most  pleasing  and  graceful  Undine. 
Undine  approached  and  Titania  linked  her 


THE   TWINS  291 

arm  in  hers.  "  My  dear,"  she  cooed,  "  you 
haven't  an  idea  —  oh,  how  shall  I  be- 
gin? You  know  my  housekeeper,  don't 
you?  Wasn't  she  an  old  school  friend  of 
yours? " 

"  Not  a  friend,  exactly,"  answered  the 
elegant  Undine,  rather  deprecatingly.  "  An 
acquaintance,  rather.  Such  an  ugly  little 
thing  and  so  lacking  in  any  sort  of  bright- 
ness and  attractiveness  "  — 

"  To  us  yes !  "  purred  Titania.  "  But 
only  think  of  a  man  like  General  Shaftan 
having  cared  so  much  for  her  that  he  was 
unable  to  die  without  seeing  her  and  im- 
ploring her  for  the  last  time  to  become  his 
wife  "  —  She  paused  and  viewed  the  crim- 
soning Undine  with  a  countenance  abso- 
lutely devoid  of  guile. 

"General  Shaftan?"  inquired  her  guest, 
turning  from  crimson  to  scarlet.  "  General 
Shaftan?    Why,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hadwell  "  — 

"  I  know,"  murmured  Titania,  sympa- 
thetically, casting  a  demure  glance  at  the 
infuriated  water  nymph,  "I  know!  we  all 
thought  it  was  you  —  and,  no  doubt,  he 
made  you  think  so  as  well!  men  are  such 
dreadful  deceivers  —  but  he  sent  for  Mrs. 


292  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Waite  on  his  death-bed  and  wanted  to 
marry  her." 

Undine  found  her  breath. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Hadwell,"  she  laughed, 
lightly.    "  Does  it  sound  a  probable  story?  " 

"  No ;  and  if  the  poor  woman,  herself, 
had  told  me  about  it,  I  regret  to  say  that 
I  should  have  doubted  her.  But  the  Gen- 
eral told  his  nurse  and  trusted  her  with 
the  secret  contents  of  his  will.  It  was 
drawn  up  three  hours  before  he  sent  for 
Mrs.  Waite  and,  in  it,  he  says  that  he 
leaves  all  of  which  he  dies  possessed  to 
Amy  Marion  Waite  in  the  belief  that  that 
lady  will,  in  the  next  few  hours,  become 
his  wife,  as  he  hopes  and  intends  she  shall." 

Mrs.  Langham-Greene  said  nothing,  but 
turned  white  and  twisted  the  fan  which  she 
held  in  her  long,  snake-like  fingers  fever- 
ishly. Titania,  looking  at  her,  felt  a  sudden 
twinge  of  compassion  and  compunction. 
She  left  her  with  some  hurried  excuse. 

"  So,"  she  said,  slowly  to  herself,  "  so 
even  that  unscrupulous,  wheedling  serpent 
is  capable  of  caring  for  somebody:  and 
caring  for  him  all  those  years,  too.  Am  I 
the  only  woman  living  who  —  who  " 


THE    TWINS  293 

Something  wet  and  glistening  fell  on  her 
chiffon  dress.  She  hastily  wiped  it  away 
and  stared  in  amazement. 

"Getting  sentimental  at  my  age?"  she 
inquired  in  stupefaction.  "  Here,  Estelle 
Hadwell,  don't  be  a  fool!  YouVe  got 
everything  you  ever  wanted  and  you're  ten 
times  happier  than  anyone  else  you  know. 
Think  of  your  dresses  and  your  jewelry 
and  your  friends  and  your  —  n-n-no,  I  don't 
know  that  you  need  think  of  him  —  not 
just  now,  at  all  events !    But  think  of  "  — 

She  looked  up,  up  the  long,  broad  stair- 
way, up  to  the  big,  quiet  nursery.  Then 
she  smiled  and  tossed  her  head. 

"  I  have  everything,  practically  every- 
thing," she  said,  defiantly.  "  Everything 
but  a  sentimental  experience  which  disap- 
pears, anyway,  after  six  months  of  married 
life.  I'm  a  fool,  that's  what  I  am!  a  dis- 
contented, ungrateful  fool.  The  trouble 
with  me  is  that  I've  got  too  much.  If  only 
—  if  only  one  of  them  doesn't  " 

A  spasm  of  agony  crossed  her  face  at  the 
unwelcome  thought;  then  she  resolutely 
crossed  the  hall  and  opened  an  animated 
conversation  with  one  of  her  numerous  ad- 


294         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

mirers.  Lack  of  self-control  was  not  one 
of  the  pretty  Titania's  failings. 

Presently  Lynn  Thayer  joined  her,  look- 
ing grave  and  perplexed.  "  May  I  have 
Mrs.  Hadwell  to  myself  for  a  few  mo- 
ments?" she  asked,  smiling  in  a  rather 
forced  way:  then,  putting  her  hand  on 
Mrs.  Hadwell's  arm,  she  drew  her  aside. 

"  Del,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  you 
know  I  am  no  prude  and  I  don't  make  a 
fuss,  unnecessarily,  about  anything;  but 
I  tell  you  plainly  that  you  must  speak  to 
those  young  connections  of  yours." 

"  Why,  what  have  the  poor  things  been 
doing?"  asked  Mrs.  Hadwell  in  amaze- 
ment. "  I  noticed  that  they  were  awfully 
lively  but,  surely,  at  their  age  "  — 

"  My  dear  Del,  their  conduct  is  outra- 
geous. Particularly  Bertie's.  After  all,  if  a 
boy  of  twenty  chooses  to  act  like  a  fool  he 
simply  gets  severely  snubbed  and,  in  time, 
comes  to  his  senses  and  is  forgiven.  But 
when  a  girl  of  the  same  age,  a  girl  who  has 
had  every  advantage,  starts  to  act  in  her 
uncle's  house  like  an  extremely  fast  bar- 
maid, why,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
it  won't  be  forgotten  in  a  hurry.    What  has 


THE   TWINS  295 

got  into  them  to-night  I  don't  know;  but 
the  whole  room  is  talking  of  their  actions. 
Imagine  Bertie  asking  that  shy  little  re- 
cluse of  a  Simcoe  to  kiss  her  and  pretend- 
ing to  weep  when  he  hesitated  " 

"Lynn!" 

"  My  dear,  that  isn't  the  worst  of  it.  She 
has  taken  about  half  her  partners  to  that 
little  alcove  in  the  second  floor  hall,  which 
is  curtained  off,  and  has  treated  them  to  a 
course  of  hoydenish  flirtation  which  is,  to 
say  the  least  of  it,  in  the  poorest  taste. 
Silly  little  Simcoe  was  bad  enough,  but, 
when  it  comes  to  Parham,  one  of  the  fast- 
est men  in  the  city  " 

"Surely  not!" 

"  She  has  been  sitting  up  there  with  him 
for  the  last  two  dances;  and  she  is  evi- 
dently taken  with  him,  for,  when  she  showed 
me  her  programme  and  I  remarked  on  her 
having  promised  him  three  dances  in  suc- 
cession, she  giggled  in  the  most  affected 
manner  and  said,  *  Oh,  I  simply  adore  those 
sad-eyed,  soft-voiced  men  with  reputations 
yards  long!'  and  danced  off  before  I  had 
a  chance  to  suggest  that " 

"  Why,    Lynn,    what   can    I    have    been 


296         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

thinking  about  to  allow  it?  Oh,  the  silly- 
child!  If  she  must  act  like  a  goose,  why 
couldn't  she  do  it  a  little  more  privately? 
Don't  laugh,  Lynn:  you  know  what  I 
mean.    And  you  tell  me  that  Bert?  " 

"  Has  been  acting  like  a  perfect  fool. 
He  even  wanted  to  kiss  me." 

"  Lynn !  the  boy  must  have  taken  leave 
of  his  senses." 

"  I  was  afraid  myself  that  he  was  drunk. 
In  fact  I  took  the  liberty  of  asking  him  if 
he  was.  He  was  quite  angry  for  a  mo- 
ment. '  What  do  you  mean  by  saying  that 
I  am  drunk?'  he  asked.  'Oh,'  I  said,  *I 
didn't  say  that  you  were  drunk:  on  the  con- 
trary I  said  I  hoped  you  weren't.'  '  But 
why  should  you  think  I  was  ? '  persisted  my 
gentleman.  So  I  told  him  that  when  people 
tried  to  make  love  to  me  I  always  thought 
they  must  be  drunk.  He  shouted  at  that 
and  explained  that  he  was  in  good  spirits 
—  animal,  not  vegetable  —  and  wanted  to 
enjoy  himself.  I  treated  him  to  a  piece  of 
my  mind,  but  it  didn't  seem  to  do  much 
good." 

"Isn't  it  extraordinary?  With  all  their 
high  spirits  and  love  of  fun  I  thought  those 


THE   TWINS  297 

twins  were  as  well-bred  a  pair  as  you  would 
want  to  meet.  Well!  I  must  do  my  duty, 
I  suppose.  Where  are  the  miscreants, 
Lynn?" 

"  Bert  is  in  the  ballroom,  trying  to  pacify 
his  partners,  most  of  whom  are  not  pleased 
with  him  for  reasons  best  known  to  them- 
selves. Bertie,  as  I  told  you,  is  sitting 
behind  a  fairly  thick  curtain  with  a  man 
who  shouldn't  be  admitted  into  any  re- 
spectable house." 

"  My  dear  child,  don't  start  to  lecture 
about  that!    I  have  enough  on  my  hands." 

She  mounted  the  stairs  with  a  deter- 
mined but  bored  expression  and  presently 
descended,  followed  by  the  unrepentant 
Bertie  who  winked  joyously  at  the  stony 
and  disapproving  visage  of  her  aunt's 
friend.  Behind  them  strolled  the  redoubt- 
able Parham,  apparently  highly  amused. 

Mrs.  Hadwell  entered  the  ballroom  and 
looked  about  for  Bert.  He  was  presently 
discovered  in  the  act  of  fanning  an  indig- 
nant-looking lady  who  pretended  to  ignore 
his  efforts  at  small  talk.  Mrs.  Hadwell 
beckoned  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet  with 
alacrity. 


298         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"Bert!"  said  his  aunt  by  marriage, 
sternly,  "  there  are  limits  to  my  forbear- 
ance. I  am  sorry  to  say  that  you  have 
transgressed  those  limits.  I  am  still  sor- 
rier that  you  have  no  better  taste  than  to 
take  pleasure  in  showing  impertinence  to 
my  guests." 

Bert's  face  worked  for  a  moment:  he 
said  something  in  an  aside  to  his  sister, 
then  spoke. 

"Aunt  Del,"  he  said,  humbly  but  with 
an  irrepressible  twinkle  in  his  black  eyes, 
"  we  have  acted  like  a  couple  of  demons,  I 
must  admit,  but,  if  you'll  only  forgive  us 
this  once,  I  swear  we'll  straighten  things 
out.  Every  one  is  going  to  supper,  now; 
well,  Bertie  and  I  are  going  in  together 
and,  just  as  soon  as  the  people  are  seated, 
you  will  see  what  will  happen." 

"  I  will  not,"  was  Mrs.  Hadwell's  unex- 
pected rejoinder.  "  I  have  had  quite  enough 
nonsense,  Bert.     It  must  end,  here." 

Bert  consulted  his  sister  with  his  eyes; 
then,  catching  his  diminutive  aunt  by  the 
waist,  he  whirled  her  down  the  room  and 
whispered  something  in  her  ear.  She 
gasped,  then  suddenly  laughed  and  looked 


THE    TWINS  299 

relieved;  and  Bertie  approached  and  en- 
tered into  an  animated  conversation  with 
her. 

Five  minutes  later,  when  the  assembled 
company  was  seated  at  supper,  the  unruly 
and  ostracized  pair  walked  solemnly  in  and 
stood  for  a  moment  at  the  head  of  the 
room.  Then  Bert  raised  his  crimson- 
decked  arm  with  a  mute  request  for  si- 
lence. A  hush  of  surprise  fell  on  the  rev- 
ellers.   He  spoke. 

"  My  dear  friends,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  my 
sister  and  I  have  acted  so  badly  to-night 
and  have  laid  ourselves  open  to  so  much 
well-deserved  censure  that  we  think  the 
least  we  can  do  is  to  apologize,  and  we  do 
it  —  thus !  " 

He  deliberately  laid  hold  of  his  compan- 
ion's snowy  locks  and,  with  a  vigorous 
pull,  exposed  a  close  cropped  head.  Then 
he  doffed  his  crimson  headgear  and  a  dark 
tress  fell  athwart  his  nose. 

When  the  prolonged  shrieks  of  amaze- 
ment and  laughter  had  died  into  silence 
Bert  —  the  real  Bert  —  spoke. 

"  My  sister  says  that  if  all  the  girls  whom 
she   has   kissed   will  forgive   her   she   will 


30O         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

never  do  it,  again/'  he  said.  "  And,  as  for 
me,"  he  paused  and  cast  a  glance  of  pure 
dehght  in  the  direction  of  Messrs.  Simcoe 
and  Parham,  "  as  for  me,  while  I  must  con- 
fess that  I  am  a  horrible  flirt "  — 
He  could  get  no  further. 

An  hour  later  Undine,  looking  paler  than 
her  wont,  sat  whispering  behind  a  large 
fan  to  two  or  three  other  women.  One  of 
them,  a  pleasant-faced  middle-aged  woman, 
looked  distinctly  sad  and  uncomfortable. 

"The  poor  girl!"  she  said. 

"  Such  people  should  be  exposed,"  re- 
turned Undine,  coldly.  "  The  idea  of  her 
being  here  at  all.  Mrs.  Hadwell  cannot 
associate  with  fast  women  and  expect  to 
keep  her  own  character.  Personally  I  never 
think  there  is  any  real  harm  in  Mrs.  Had- 
well, though  "  —  She  paused  tentatively 
while  a  venomous  gleam  lit  her  large,  pale 
eyes. 

"Oh,  no,  no!"  cried  the  others  in  horri- 
fied unison;  and  Mrs.  Langham-Greene 
saw  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  venture 
further.  She  bade  an  affectionate  farewell 
to  her  hostess  and  ordered  a  closed  sleigh. 


THE   TWINS  301 

"  My  dress  is  so  thin,"  she  explained, 
smiling. 

As  the  sleigh  drove  away  she  crouched 
among  the  fur  rugs  and  bit  her  naked  arms 
and  writhed. 

"  I'll  pay  them  for  this,"  she  whispered, 
catching  her  breath  in  torture.  "  He  sent 
for  her  —  for  her!  and  that  little  cat  dared 
to  tell  me  to  my  face  —  oh,  I  can't  reach 
her,  not  yet;  but  I  can  hurt  her  through 
her  friend,  anyway.  She  really  cares  for 
the  Thayer  girl;  it'll  make  trouble  with 
her  pompous  old  husband  when  she  insists 
on  supporting  her  —  oh,  I'll  do  what  I  can! 
it  may  help  me  to  forget."  She  groaned. 
"Oh,  I  can't  bear  it:  I  didn't  mind  his 
death  as  I  mind  this!  it's  like  losing  him 
all  over  again  —  I'll  pay  her  for  what  she's 
made  me  suffer  to-night !    I'll  pay  her!  " 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A  LIE  WHICH  IS   PART  A  TRUTH 

**  A  He  which  is  part  a  truth  is  ever  the  blackest  of  lies, 
A  lie  which  is  all  a  lie  may  be  met  and  fought  with  outright, 
But  a  lie  which  is  part  a  truth  is  a  harder  matter  to  fight." 

—  Tennyson. 

MRS.  LANGHAM  -  GREENE'S 
pretty  town  house  possessed  a 
drawing-room  as  elegant  as  its 
mistress,  and  far  less  harmful.  It  was 
flanked  by  two  bay  windows,  admirably 
adapted  for  gazing  on  the  peccadilloes  of 
one's  neighbours,  the  while  one  ruminated 
contentedly  on  one's  own  virtues.  Here 
its  fair  owner  loved  to  sit  on  winter  after- 
noons, dispensing  excellent  tea  and  gossip: 
and  here  one  bright  January  day  found  her 
brewing  the  witching  potion  for  a  waiting 
guest.  This  was  no  other  than  Gerald 
Amherst,  who  happened  to  be  painting  the 
lady's  portrait.  When  the  daylight  faded 
she  had  insisted  on  his  accompanying  her 

302 


PART   A   TRUTH  303 

home  and  joining  her  in  a  cup  of  five 
o'clock  tea.  The  fair  widow  was  not  an 
especial  favourite  of  the  artist's;  but  his 
stock  of  excuses  had  been  exhausted  on 
previous  occasions  and  he  had  therefore 
submitted  meekly. 

Mrs.  Langham-Greene  was  a  woman  who 
wore  well,  as  the  saying  is.  Her  figure 
was  straight  and  supple  as  a  girl  of  twen- 
ty's and  her  delicate  features  had  escaped 
the  pinched  look  which  frequently  accom- 
panies thinness  in  a  woman  of  fifty.  Her 
skin  had  always  been  colourless  and  now 
resembled  fine  ivory;  her  hair,  which  she 
wore  parted  in  the  middle  in  the  Madonna 
style,  was  only  very  slightly  flecked  with 
grey.  Julia  Langham-Greene  was  a  dis- 
tinguished woman,  an  interesting  woman, 
an  elegant  woman.  When,  at  thirty-five, 
she  had  first  donned  widow's  weeds,  she 
had  created  such  a  furore  that  it  was  many 
years  before  she  found  herself  able  to  re- 
linquish them.  However,  when  a  woman 
reaches  forty  and  finds  herself  capable  of 
wearing  pale  blue  and  scarlet  to  advantage 
—  she  usually  does. 

Mrs.   Langham-Greene   was   now   forty- 


304  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

seven,  yet  she  could  attend  a  fancy  dress 
ball  attired  in  Nile  green  and  pearls  and 
look  the  part  of  Undine  to  perfection. 
Small  wonder,  then,  that  she  wished  to 
transfer  such  lasting  charms  to  still  more 
lasting  canvas;  and  Amherst  had  attained 
distinction  as  a  portrait  painter  years  be- 
fore. She  smiled  delicately  on  him  now, 
as  she  sugared  his  tea  and  inquired  in  tones 
of  melted  honey  whether  he  took  cream  or 
lemon;  and  pondered  inwardly  how  best 
to  land  the  shaft  she  held  in  store. 

"  You  are  too  good,"  she  purred,  in  re- 
sponse to  a  perfunctory  compliment  on  his 
part.  "  Far  too  good.  Among  so  many 
young  and  pretty  girls  I  fear  I  must  have 
been  quite  unnoticed.  Miss  Reed,  for  in- 
stance! What  regular  features  she  has; 
quite  ideal!  What  a  pity  that  she  has  so 
little  conversation!  and  such  poor  taste 
in  dress.  And  is  it  true  that  her  father 
has  fits  and  that  her  mother  was  a  house- 
maid before  he  married  her?  " 

"  I  never  heard  that,"  returned  Amherst, 
opening  his  honest  eyes  in  amazement. 
"  Miss  Reed  is  a  striking  looking  girl,  but, 
to  my  mind,  Miss  Ladilaw  is  f^r  prettier." 


PART   A   TRUTH  305 

"  But  so  uninteresting,  don't  you  think?  " 

"  Not  more  so  than  the  majority  of  very 
young  girls." 

"  Still,"  pursued  Mrs.  Langham-Greene, 
thoughtfully,  "  she  is  a  nice  lady-like  little 
thing.  I  daresay  she  will  marry  young; 
she  is  so  naive  and  pretty.  It  is  not  likely 
that  she  will  hang  on  year  after  year  like 
that  poor,  plain  cousin  of  hers." 

"Surely  you  don't  mean  Miss  Thayer?" 

"  I  mention  no  names,"  said  the  widow, 
archly:  then  her  face  dropped,  pathetically. 
"  I  should  not  like  to  say  one  thing  about 
that  poor,  misguided  girl  that  might  sound 
unkind,  —  poor  creature,  she  has  enough  to 
bear." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Gerald, 
flushing  angrily. 

"  Ah,  you  men  are  so  gallant,"  com- 
mented the  widow,  smiling  a  little  sorrow- 
fully. "  I  am  told  that  the  things  gentle- 
men say  about  Miss  Thayer  when  they  are 
alone  could  not  be  repeated  in  a  lady's  hear- 
ing." 

"  Whoever  told  you  that,  Mrs.  Greene," 
replied  Gerald,  forgetting  the  hyphened  ad- 
junct in  his'  fury,  "  is  an  uncommonly  first 


3o6  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

class  liar.  The  things  that  gentlemen  say 
about  Miss  Thayer  could  be  repeated  in  the 
hearing  of  St.  Peter." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Amherst,  you  have  lifted 
a  weight  from  my  mind.  Is  it  possible  that 
there  are  men  in  this  world  so  —  so  kindly 
that  they  refrain  from  unpleasant  comment 
on  a  woman  of  that  kind  even  when  the 
refining  influence  of  ladies'  society  " 

"A  woman  of  that  kind!  Unpleasant 
comment!  I  don't  know  what  in  the  — 
what  in  thunder  you  can  mean,  Mrs. 
Greene;  and,  if  you  will  kindly  inform  me 
in  as  few  words  as  possible  " 

"  I?  " 

Mrs.  Langham-Greene  drew  her  slender 
figure  up  haughtily  and  regarded  her  inter- 
rogator with  stately  yet  grieved  amaze- 
ment. 

"  I?  I  repeat  scandal  —  I  spread  scandal 
about  another  woman  ?  a  woman,  too,  who, 
in  spite  of  the  fact,  that  she  must  be  fully 
thirty,  has  not  yet  been  able  to  secure  a 
husband  to  protect  her?  Indeed,  Mr.  Am- 
herst, you  must  not  think  that  you  can  drag 
me  into  this.  You  quite  forget  yourself  if 
you  suppose  that  I  am  willing  to  discuss 


PART   A   TRUTH  307 

such  questionable  things.  If  you  choose  to 
delve  into  these  unpleasant  matters  it  shall 
not  be  in  my  drawing-room." 

Mr.  Amherst  surveyed  her  in  silence. 

"  Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Greene,"  he  said,  cour- 
teously, "  but  v^as  not  the  matter  first  re- 
ferred to  in  your  drawing-room,  and  by 
you?" 

"  If,"  said  Mrs.  Langham-Greene,  rather 
sadly,  "  if  I  allowed  an  expression  of  sym- 
pathy for  the  unfortunate  girl  to  escape  me, 
I  did  not  expect  to  be  reproached  for  it, 
Mr.  Amherst." 

Amherst,  despite  his  indignation,  began 
to  feel  a  little  abashed.  After  all,  the 
woman  had  done  nothing  but  mention 
Lynn  pityingly;  but  why  she  or  any  one 
else  should 

He  pulled  himself  together  and  spoke, 
quietly. 

"  I  gained  the  impression  from  what  you 
said,  Mrs.  Greene,  that  there  were  unpleas- 
ant rumours  afloat  concerning  Miss  Thayer. 
Won't  you  tell  me  what  they  are?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Amherst,"  murmured  the 
lady,  distressfully.     "  I  couldn't,  really." 

"  Can't  you  give  me  an  idea  of  them?  " 


3o8  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  But,  Mr.  Amherst,  you  must  know 
something.  Why,  the  very  servants  talk 
of  it.     My  butler  and  housemaid  " 

"  Yes?  Not  having  the  pleasure  of  either 
your  housemaid's  or  your  butler's  acquaint- 
ance, I  am  still  grievously  in  the  dark.  Has 
anyone  else  mentioned  the  matter  to  you?  " 

"  Why,  everyone.  I  supposed,  of  course, 
that  you  knew,  that  you  had  heard  of  it 
long  ago  or,  believe  me,  I  should  never 
have  mentioned  it.  Of  course  if  it  were 
another  man  —  if  it  were  even  a  gentle- 
man —  it  would  not  be  quite  so  awful.  But 
a  villainous,  sickly  little  foreigner  like  Ri- 
cossia  " 

"What?" 

"  There.  You  have  actually  dragged  the 
name  out  of  me,"  cried  Mrs.  Langham- 
Green,  indignantly.  "I  declare!  Men  are 
perfectly  horrid.  They  will  not  let  you  be 
charitable  and  kind  and  keep  things  to 
yourself.  That  poor  girl!  I  suppose  you 
will  be  just  as  hard  on  her  as  all  the  others. 
I  was  so  indignant,  the  other  day,  with 
Mr.  Parham.  He  said  —  but  really  I  had 
better  not  repeat  it  " 

"Stop!" 


PART    A   TRUTH  309 

Amherst  rose  to  his  feet,  breathing  heav- 
ily. 

"  Parham,  was  it?  I'll  remember  that," 
he  said  in  quiet,  metallic  tones.  "  In  the 
meantime,  Mrs.  Greene,  you  must  tell  me 
what  you  mean.    What  is  this  story?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  Mr.  Amherst,  I  cannot 
spread  scandal,"  cried  his  hostess,  anx- 
iously. "  Do  sit  down  and  have  another 
cup  of  tea.  Tea  is  so  soothing  when  one  — 
I  felt  just  as  you  do  when  I  first  heard  it. 
It  does  seem  so  strange  that  such  a  plain 
girl  couldn't  conduct  herself  like  a  lady. 
Of  course  if  she  were  at  all  good-looking 
so  that  people  noticed  her  and  sought  her 
out  it  might  —  oh,  you're  not  going,  al- 
ready?" 

"  Yes,  I'm  going  to  hunt  up  Mr.  Par- 
ham,"  said  Gerald,  searching  blindly  for  his 
hat. 

"No,  oh,  no.  Oh,  but  I  insist.  Well, 
rather  than  have  you  run  off  like  that  I'll 
tell  you  the  whole  truth  —  all  that  I  know, 
that  is.  It  seems  that  —  you  know  that 
Miss  Thayer  and  Ricossia  were  always  to- 
gether when  he  came  here  first,  two  years 
ago.    It  was  quite  a  joke;  such  a  difference 


3IO  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

in  their  ages,  you  know;  and  he  so  hand- 
some and  she,  poor  girl,  so  plain!  and  it 
does  seem  as  though  it  must  be  her  fault, 
for  certainly  he  never  appeared  to  encour- 
age her  " 

"  Go  on,  for  God's  sake !  " 

"  Mr.  Amherst,  I  must  beg  of  you  not  to 
use  profane  language,"  observed  Mrs.  Lang- 
ham-Greene  with  dignity.  "  Well,  where 
was  I?  oh,  yes!  well,  when  he  disappeared 
from  polite  society  and  we  were  all  obliged 
to  give  him  the  cold  shoulder  because  he 
was  so  openly  depraved  —  not  like  some 
people  whom  one  can  know  because  they 
keep  quiet  about  it  —  but  he  had  no  savoir 
faire,  that  is  to  say,  no  shame  " 

"  Mrs.  Greene,"  shouted  Amherst,  "  won't 
you  please  skip  Ricossia  and  get  to  Miss 
Thayer?" 

The  widow  reared  herself  like  a  black-and- 
golden  snake,  about  to  strike.  Her  green 
eyes  gleamed;  then  she  recollected  herself 
and  smiled,  subtly. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Amherst,  pray  allow  me  to  tell 
the  story  in  my  own  way.  I  really  cannot 
be  interrupted  in  this  abrupt  fashion.  I 
was  coming  to  Miss  Thayer.    It  seems  that 


PART   A   TRUTH  311 

the  wicked  girl,  instead  of  dropping  him 
when  he  was  found  out,  as  all  the  rest  of 
us  did,  continued  to  meet  him  secretly.  He 
evidently  was  not  sufficiently  enamoured  to 
pursue  her  very  much,  but  you  know  how 
it  is!  a  woman  of  that  age  who  has  never 
succeeded  in  marrying  frequently  loses  all 
hope  and  simply  doesn't  care  what  she 
does;  so  she  used  to  visit  him  at  night  in 
some  awful  slum  where  he  lived  "  — 

"What  utter  absurdity!" 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Amherst,"  said  the  widow 
with  angelic  patience,  "  you  may  be  sure 
that  I  should  not  readily  believe  such 
things  of  another  woman.  Unfortunately, 
however,  the  misguided  girl  was  seen  and 
recognized,  not  only  by  my  butler  but  by 
people  of  her  own  class;  people  who  could 
hardly  believe  their  eyes  and  who,  in  their 
anxiety  not  to  condemn  her  rashly,  fol- 
lowed her  home  —  at  a  safe  distance,  of 
course.  Not  that  she  went  home,  directly: 
I  am  told  that  her  practice  was  to  take  a 
sleigh  to  a  lonely  part  of  Pine  Avenue, 
dismiss  it  there  and  walk  to  her  uncle's 
house.  Very  dangerous,  too!  fancy  a  lady 
walking  alone  after  dark.     Once,  when  I 


312  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

first  lost  my  husband,  I  was  compelled  by 
some  mischance  to  traverse  two  blocks  one 
evening  without  an  escort.  Some  men 
passed  me  and  one  of  them  made  some  re- 
mark about  the  '  bewitching  widow.'  I 
don't  know  how  I  ever  reached  home;  but, 
as  soon  as  I  did,  I  retired,  immediately. 
Next  morning  I  sent  for  my  doctor:  he 
advised  rest  and  plenty  of  light  nourish- 
ment—  what,  you're  going?  Good  eve- 
ning, Mr.  Amherst:  so  sorry  we  drifted 
into  these  unpleasant  subjects.  Good  eve- 
ning! " 

Ten  minutes  later  Gerald  rang  the  Thay- 
crs'  bell. 

"  No,  Miss  Thayer  is  not  at  home.  I 
don't  believe  she  will  be  in  to-night,  for 
she  is  dining  at  Mrs.  Hadwell's.  Certainly, 
sir:  I'll  tell  her." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

WHISPERING  TONGUES 

"Whispering  tongues  can  poison  truth, 
And  constancy  dwells  in  realms  above. 
And  life  is  thorny  —  and  youth  is  vain  — 
And  to  be  wroth  with  one  we  love 
Doth  work  Hke  madness  on  the  brain." 

—  Coleridge. 

YES,  the  dear  twins   have  gone  at 
last.      Whether    or    no    they    are 
leaving  their  young  hearts  here  I 
can't  say,  but  they  are  certainly  carrying 
two  very  nice  ones  away  with  them.     Ex- 
cept that  the  female  one  is  chiefly  ice;   but 
really,  Erma  quite  thawed  toward  the  end. 
Odd  that  he  preferred  her  to  Agatha:  she's 
no  better  looking  and  not  half  so  popular  — 
by  the  way,  Lynn,  talking  of  Agatha  re- 
minds me!    what  in  the  world  have  you 
done  to  Lighton?" 
"My  dear  Del!" 
"  Refused  him,  again?  " 
313 


314  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  He  has  not,  thanks  be,  compelled  me 
to  do  so." 

"Then  what  has  happened?  I've  seen 
him  six  times  with  Agatha  in  the  past  ten 
days.  Oh,  Lynn,  why  can't  you  be  sensible? 
To  let  such  a  thing  slip  through  your  fin- 
gers! Upon  my  word  you  make  me  feel 
sometimes  like  a  donkey  boy  with  a 
goad." 

"  And  you,  my  love,  make  me  feel  like 
Mephisto  with  a  pitchfork." 

"  Oh,  Lynn !  And,  at  all  events,  if  you 
don't  want  to  marry  him,  now,  why  tell  him 
so?  You  may  be  very  glad  of  him  a  few 
years  hence.  Why  not  keep  him  hanging 
on?" 

"  Because,  dear  friend,  I  am  neither  a 
liar  nor  a  cheat." 

"Well,  why  aren't  you?  What's  the  use 
of  trying  to  be  honest  in  a  world  of  liars 
and  cheats?  What  do  you  expect  to  gain 
by  it?" 

"  I  really  can't  say.  The  reward  of  vir- 
tue, perhaps." 

"  The  reward  of  virtue,  dearest,  is  usu- 
ally a  whack  over  the  head." 

"  So  I  have  observed." 


WHISPERING   TONGUES        315 

"  Is  that  why  you  are  so  desperately 
anxious  to  obtain  it?" 

"  Not  exactly." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  when  it 
arrives  ?  " 

"  Look  and  act  as  though  it  were  the  one 
thing  on  earth  I  had  always  longed  for. 
Unless  it  is  violent  enough  to  stun  me,  in 
which  case  I  shall  set  my  teeth  and  say 
nothing." 

"  Lynn,  youVe  a  fool!  " 

"  I  have  frequently  suspected  as  much." 

"  And  oh,  Lynn,  I  chatter  and  chatter  — 
and  all  the  time  there  is  something  I  must 
say  to  you." 

"  Say  it." 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  is?  " 

"  No ;  but,  whatever  it  may  be,  Del,  hurry 
up  and  tell  me.  You  know  suspense  is  the 
one  thing  I  can't  bear." 

"Will  you  let  me  ask  you  something?" 

"  Anything  —  but  I  won't  promise  to  an- 
swer." 

"Will  you  answer  me  this?  Have  you 
ever  cared  for  anyone?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Any  man,  I  mean !  " 


3i6  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Yes." 

"Much?" 

"  Very  much." 

"  Enough  —  well,  enough  to  do  anything 
fooHsh  for?" 

"  Enough  to  do  things  that  you  would 
consider  would  qualify  me  for  a  madhouse." 

"Ah!" 

Mrs.  Hadwell  drew  a  long  breath  and  her 
face  fell. 

"  You  might  have  told  me,  dear,"  she 
said,  gently. 

"  I  couldn't,  Del.  But,  anyway,  it's  not 
what  you  think.  Why  do  you  ask  me  all 
this?" 

"Was  that  why  you  refused  Lighton?" 

"  No  —  yes ;  I  would  have  refused  him, 
anyhow." 

"  But  the  other  had  something  to  do  with 
it?"  said  Mrs.  Hadwell,  leaning  forward, 
breathlessly. 

Lynn  said  nothing  but  her  face  was  sad. 
Although  she  felt  that  her  secret  must  die 
with  her  brother  she  longed  to-night  for  the 
sympathy  which  she  could  so  easily  obtain 
from  this,  her  oldest  and  dearest  friend. 

"  I  —  I  would  have  liked  to  tell  you,  Del," 


WHISPERING   TONGUES        317 

she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  But  —  I  had 
promised  to  tell  no  one.  It  was  not  that 
I  didn't  trust  you.  The  circumstances  were 
peculiar.    I  had  others  to  consider." 

"  Oh,  Lynn,  Lynn,  it  was  some  one  that 
you  couldn't  marry,  then?"  Mrs.  Had- 
well's  voice  rose  almost  to  a  wail. 

"  Yes.  But,  Del,  the  more  you  say,  the 
less  you  understand.  Let  us  talk  of  some- 
thing else." 

"  Lynn,  I  can't !  Oh,  do  tell  me  just  one 
thing  more:  you  know  that  you  can  trust 
me.  Have  you  done  anything  that  was 
unconventional?  stupidly  unconventional? 
that  might  expose  you  to  scandalous  com- 
ments if  it  were  known?  " 

"I  —  yes,  I  am  afraid  I  have.  But  don't 
talk  of  it,  Del.  I  don't  feel  very  cheerful 
to-night." 

"  But  I  must.  Lynn,  will  you  promise 
solemnly  never  again  to  do  anything  fool- 
ish—  you  know  what  I  mean?  —  anything 
improper  or  reckless?" 

Lynn  was  silent. 

"  Promise.  Oh,  Lynn,  promise !  You 
don't  know  what  danger  you're  in.  You 
have  enemies;  you  are  already  talked  about 


3i8         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

in  certain  circles.  I  won't  ask  a  question, 
dear,  not  a  question :   only  promise  " 

"  Del,  I  can  promise  nothing." 

"  You  —  you  would  do  foolish  things 
again  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  But,  why  —  oh,  Lynn,  why?  " 

It  was  some  moments  before  Lynn  an- 
swered and,  when  she  did,  her  voice  was 
hard. 

"  Because  all  my  happiness  on  earth  — 
everything  in  life  that  counts  —  depends 
on  my  outraging  certain  very  sensible  con- 
ventions. Don't  worry  if  you  can  help  it: 
I'm  a  fly,  caught  in  the  web  of  Fate:  you 
can't  help  me,  I  can't  help  myself.  If  I 
—  stopped,  I  should  never  forgive  myself: 
I  should  never  know  another  happy  mo- 
ment." 

"  Lynn,  I  see  I  shall  have  to  tell  you  — 
and  it's  a  thing  I  hate  to  do.  There  are 
stories  afloat  concerning  you  —  I  don't 
know  what,  exactly  —  coupling  your  name 
with  that  of  Ricossia." 

Lynn  grew  slowly  white. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say,  Lynn?  " 

"  Nothing,  Del." 


WHISPERING   TONGUES        319 

"  You  won't  explain  —  not  even  to  me?  " 

"  Del,"  said  her  visitor,  suddenly,  bend- 
ing forward  and  gazing  intently  in  Mrs. 
Hadwell's  face,  "  if  you  had  to  face 
some  personal  trouble  or  misunderstanding, 
amounting  to  disgrace,  even  —  or  break  a 
solemn  and  sacred  oath  —  which  would  you 
do?" 

"  Break  the  solemn  and  sacred  oath,"  re- 
turned Mrs.  Hadwell,  promptly  and  cheer- 
fully. 

*'  Ah,"  said  Lynn,  despairingly,  "  what's 
the  use  of  asking  you,  Del?  You  have  no 
conscience  about  those  things." 

"  No,  indeed ;  yet  I  am  rich  enough  to 
afford  one  if  I  really  wanted  it.  But  you, 
my  dear,  have  no  business  with  so  costly 
and  useless  an  appendage.  Can't  you  get 
rid  of  it  —  for  the  present,  anyway?  It's 
going  to  land  you  in  a  perfect  sea  of 
trouble;  and,  beyond,  shining  faintly,  is 
that  whack  over  the  head  of  which  we 
spoke.  When  you  have  tormented  your- 
self sufficiently  Society  will  hand  you  that; 
and  then  I  suppose  you  will  have  nothing 
left  to  wish  for?" 

"Only  death;   and  I'm  pretty  healthy!" 


320  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"And  you  will  not  explain?  in  spite  of 
all  I  can  say  or  do?  " 

"  No,  I'm  very  tired,  Del.  I'm  going 
now,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Half  an  hour  later  Amherst  left  Hadwell 
Heights,  scowling  unhappily.  Miss  Thayer 
had  just  left;  she  had  had  a  headache  and 
had  returned  early.  He  could  not,  in  de- 
cency, call  on  her  at  her  home  after  hearing 
this,  much  as  he  wanted  to.  He  must  wait 
until  to-morrow. 

He  walked  along  Pine  Avenue  with  his 
hands  in  his  overcoat  pockets.  Lynn  was 
the  best  girl  that  ever  lived;  but,  after  all, 
there  was  no  smoke  without  fire,  that  was 
certain.  She  had  committed  some  impru- 
dence; what,  he  must  find  out  before  he 
took  any  steps  to  circumvent  these  slanders. 
Of  course  one  thing  was  undeniable;  she 
had  bestowed  a  good  deal  of  attention  on 
Ricossia  when  she  first  met  him.  It  was 
through  her  and  her  warm  eulogies  of  his 
genius  and  beauty  that  he,  himself,  had 
first  become  interested  in  the  young  —  but, 
after  all,  the  boy  couldn't  live  a  year  and 
he  must  not  call  him  what  he  really  was. 
What  beauty  he  possessed!    the  beauty  of 


WHISPERING   TONGUES        321 

the  very  devil!  and  how  women  did  go  mad 
over  him!   It  wasn't  wonderful  if  — 

Then  suddenly,  like  poison,  Ricossia's 
low,  bell-like  laugh  at  their  last  meeting 
rang  in  his  ears.  And  his  words  —  what 
were  they?  He  had  said  that  Lynn  was 
not  attracted  by  him  in  the  ordinary  way 

—  bah !  any  one  a  degree  above  a  cur  would 
say  that.  Lynn  loved  him,  Amherst,  that 
was  certain;  but  there  were  different  kinds 
and  degrees  of  love.  Had  he  not  seen  a 
kind  sweet  woman,  a  devoted  wife  and 
mother,  leave  home,  husband,  children, 
everything  that  made  her  life;  had  he  not 
seen  her  ready  to  pay  with  a  life-time  of 
odium  and  desolation  for  the  feverish  joy 
of  a  few  anxious  months?  Lynn  had  a 
stronger  nature  than  the  majority  of 
women;  that  was  nothing;  she  would  be 
likely  to  go  to  greater  extremes  for  that 
very  reason.  She  was  so  sensible,  so  log- 
ical, so  prudent  —  were  they  not  the  very 
women  who  forsook  all  caution  when  vitally 
interested?  Ricossia  was  a  boy,  a  child; 
yes,  and  had  it  not  passed  into  a  proverb, 
the  love  of  a  woman  of  thirty  for  a  youth? 

—  what  was  he  thinking  of?  where  had  his 


322  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

fancies  led  him?  Doubt  Lynn!  Lynn, 
whom  he  had  known  from  a  child !  —  yes, 
known!  the  mockery  of  the  word!  Who 
ever  knew  another  human  being?  Stran- 
gers we  wandered  into  life;  strangers  we 
left  it;  strangers  we  were,  each  to  other, 
always;  husband  to  wife,  child  to  mother 
—  above  all,  lover  to  beloved.  He  groaned 
as  he  walked,  but  no  feeling  of  resentment 
toward  his  betrothed  held  place  as  yet. 
Lynn,  as  he  had  told  her,  was  the  one 
woman  on  earth  to  him:  he  would  abide 
by  her  explanation.  If  —  he  turned  cold 
and  faint  at  the  thought  —  if,  in  the  past, 
she  had  been  infatuated  with  that  "  half- 
devil  and  half-child,"  Ricossia;  and,  if  she 
had  done  foolish  things,  mad  things  .  .  . 
yes,  even  wrong  things  —  he  could  forgive 
them,  knowing  that  she  loved  him,  and  him 
only,  now.  After  all,  when  one  considered 
Ricossia's  reputation,  merely  to  be  seen 
with  him  was  enough;  and  she  had,  prob- 
ably, traded  unduly  on  her  social  position 
and  good  name.  Perhaps  it  was  nothing 
more  than  pity;  the  boy  was  dying  and  he 
was  so  young,  so  friendless.  On  the  whole 
Amherst  decided  that  he  was  probably  act- 


WHISPERING   TONGUES        323 

ing  like  a  fool;  one  might  almost  as  well  be 
jealous  of  a  corpse  as  of  Ricossia,  who 
might  be  one  at  that  moment  for  anything 
he  knew  to  the  contrary.  With  a  sudden 
rush  of  compunction  and  self-reproach  Am- 
herst left  Pine  Avenue  and,  descending  to 
the  city,  hailed  a  passing  car.  He  would 
look  the  boy  up;  confound  it  all,  the  young 
fool  might  be  dying  a  miserable  death  at 
this  very  moment  while  he  maundered  away 
like  a  simpleton  in  a  melodrama.  He  would 
see  how  Ricossia  was  holding  out,  anyway; 
this  last  cold  spell  wasn't  just  the  best 
thing  for  a  consumptive,  and  he  would  like 
to  see  the  cub  spend  his  last  months  on 
earth  in  comparative  comfort,  whether  he 
deserved  to  or  not.  And,  perhaps  —  but 
no !  he  couldn't  touch  on  that  —  not  with 
him! 

The  car  took  him  within  a  few  blocks 
of  his  destination.  He  walked  slowly  on, 
feeling  cheered  and  comparatively  happy. 
When  one  has  writhed  in  doubt  and  misery 
for  a  certain  number  of  hours  the  reaction 
is  usually  strong;  and  Amherst  wondered 
how  he  had  ever  come  to  attach  so  much 
importance  to  the  babblings  of  a  green-eyed 


324         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

tabby  cat  and  the  insults  of  a  hound.  He 
inhaled  the  clear  night  air  with  calm  enjoy- 
ment; to-morrow  he  would  see  Lynn  and 
then  —  and  then  — 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  Chatham 
when  the  door  opened  quietly  and  a  woman 
descended  the  steps.  As  she  advanced 
toward  him  she  raised  her  head  in  a  blind, 
unseeing  sort  of  fashion.  The  light  of  a 
flickering  gas  jet  shone  clearly  and  piti- 
lessly on  her  upturned  face;  a  face  which, 
though  drawn  and  hollow-eyed,  was 
strangely  familiar  —  the  face  of  his  in- 
tended wife,  Lynn  Thayer. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

WHEN   LOVE   IS   DONE 

"The  mind  has  a  thousand  eyes, 
And  the  heart  but  one  — 
Yet  the  light  of  the  whole  life  dies 
When  love  is  done." 

—  Old  Song. 

"1  love  —  but  I  believe  in  love  no  more." 

—Shelley. 

LYNN  recognized  him  almost  immedi- 
ately and   stood  quite   still,   looking 
into  his  face  with  a  curious  delibera- 
tion and  intentness. 

"  One  would  almost  think  you  had  ex- 
pected me,"  said  Amherst,  involuntarily. 
One  seldom  says  what  is  uppermost  in  one's 
mind  on  these  occasions. 

"  I  think  I  did,"  said  Lynn  with  equal 
quietness.  "  When  I  awoke  this  morning 
something  told  me  that  this  would  hap- 
pen." 

**  There  is  a  cab-stand  a  few  blocks  away," 
32s 


326         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

he  continued,  courteously.  "  May  I  take 
you  there  and  see  you  into  one?" 

"  I  shall  be  —  grateful  for  the  attention," 
said  Lynn,  dully:  then  she  laughed. 

They  walked  in  silence  for  a  block  or 
two. 

*'  Have  you  anything  to  say  to  me, 
Lynn?  "  said  Amherst  at  last. 

"I  — nothing!" 

"You  prefer  to  say  nothing?" 

Lynn  was  silent  for  a  moment;  then  she 
spoke  very  distinctly. 

"  On  the  night  that  you  asked  me  to 
marry  you,  I  said  all  that  I  was  at  liberty 
to  say." 

"  Ricossia  is  rather  exacting,  isn't  he?" 

The  sneer  escaped  Gerald,  wrung  from 
him  by  his  pain.  Lynn  started  slightly  but 
made  no  answer. 

"  I  should  ask  your  pardon,"  Amherst 
went  on,  presently.  "  I  had  no  right  to  say 
that.  I  do  not  even  know  that  it  is  Ri- 
cossia  on  whom  you  paid  this  late  call. 
Possibly  you  have  other  friends  in  the 
Chatham." 

"  I  have  not." 

"It  — it  is  Ricossia?" 


WHEN    LOVE   IS    DONE        327 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

"  Exactly  —  it  is  Ricossia.  And,  by  the 
way,  Mr.  Amherst,  although  I  know  that 
when  one  does  an  unconventional  thing, 
'  gentlemen '  are  quite  justified  in  insulting 
one;  yet,  as  there  is  a  policeman  on  the  next 
corner,  and  as  even  a  homeless  cur  isn't 
obliged  to  stand  still  while  some  one  throws 
a  rock  at  it  —  will  you  leave  me?  " 

"  No.  Lynn,  forgive  me.  I'm  crazy ;  I 
don't  know  what  I'm  saying.  If  it  were 
anyone  else  —  if  it  were  any  other  man  — 
anyone,  anyone  but  that  villainous  little 
blackguard  " 

"Stop!" 

Lynn  turned  on  him  like  a  tigress,  her 
eyes  blazing  with  fury. 

"How  dare  you  call  him  that?"  she 
cried.  "  A  genius !  a  god  of  beauty !  and 
dying  at  that!  What  sort  of  man  do  you 
call  yourself  to  insult  first  the  woman  who 
was  to  have  been  your  wife  and  then  a 
dying  man." 

Amherst  gasped  and  caught  his  breath  in 
painful  amazement. 

"Oh,  my  God!"  he  groaned  like  a  hurt 
animal,  "  how  you  must  love  him,  Lynn !  " 


328  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

They  had  passed  the  cab-stand  now  and 
had  turned  toward  home,  but  neither  no- 
ticed this.  Amherst's  face  was  ghastly  and 
his  steps  unsteady;  but  Lynn  walked  erect 
and  stately  like  a  sable  figure  of  doom. 

When  some  blocks  had  been  traversed  in 
silence  Amherst  spoke,  slowly  and  humbly. 

"  Lynn,  I  should  not  have  spoken  as  I 
did.  We're  all  human  and  I'm  not  your 
judge.  If  I  didn't  love  you  —  if  I  hadn't 
believed  that  you  loved  me  —  I  should  not 
have  been  so  harsh.  Will  you  let  me  walk 
home  with  you?  We  probably  shan't  see 
one  another  again  very  soon  and  there  is 
so  much  I  want  to  say." 

"  No." 

"You  won't  let  me?  You  compel  me  to 
—  very  well,  I'll  go  to  Ricossia,  then;  I'll 
make  him  listen  to  reason  and,  and  if  he 
won't,  I'll  " 

"Gerald!" 

Lynn's  voice  was  alive  with  a  sudden, 
horrible  fear. 

"  Gerald,"  she  said  swiftly,  clasping  his 
arm  with  her  hands,  "  you  loved  me  once, 
didn't  you?  For  the  sake  of  that,  because 
of  that,  will  you  do  me  a  favour?     Deal 


WHEN    LOVE    IS    DONE        329 

with  me,  alone.  I'm  strong,  I  can  stand 
anything.  Say  what  you  please  to  me,  do 
as  you  think  best  —  but  let  him  alone.  He's 
so  young,  he  —  he's  so  weak  —  and  he's 
dying,  Gerald,  dying.  He  may  be  dead, 
to-morrow.  While  he  lives,  let  him  alone. 
Oh,  Gerald,  promise  me!" 

Amherst  could  not  speak  for  a  moment. 
When  he  did  his  voice  had  altered. 

"  Lynn,"  said  he,  gently,  "  why  did  you 
promise  to  marry  me?" 

"  Because  I  loved  you,  Gerald." 

"  You  still  say  that  —  now?  " 

"  Yes.  My  love  for  him  was  quite  an- 
other thing.  I  can't  explain,  and  I  don't 
expect  you  to  understand." 

"  I  see  —  I  think  I  see.  The  other  was  a 
—  well,  a  sort  of  obsession." 

"  Exactly.  You  could  hit  on  no  better 
word." 

"  Yet  you  believed  that  you  loved  me. 
You  think  that  you  could  care  for  two  men 
at  once?  " 

She  moistened  her  dry  lips  and  spoke, 
feebly. 

"  If  I  had  not  been  so  alone  in  the  world, 
Gerald,  I  might  have  loved  several.    There 


330         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

are  so  many  different  loves,  you  know;  dif- 
fering in  kind  and  in  degree.  The  love  for 
a  father,  for  a  son,  for  a  brother "  —  her 
face  lightened  with  sudden  hope,  —  "  that 
was  really  what  I  felt  for  him,  Gerald;  the 
love  that  a  mother  has  for  a  son,  the  love 
that  a  sister  has  for  a  brother  —  don't  you, 
oh,  can't  you,  understand?  I  loved  you  in 
quite  another  way  —  it's  so  different  — 
and,  if  I  tried  to  explain  any  more,  I  should 
break  a  solemn  oath  —  I  should  bring  a 
curse  on  my  head  " 

Amherst's  face  lit  with  a  sudden,  heated 
gleam.    He  turned  and  spoke  fiercely. 

"Lynn!  Don't  insult  my  intelligence  by 
telling  me  stuff  of  that  sort,  but  listen! 
Promise  that  you'll  never  see  him  again, 
and  that  you'll  do  your  best  to  forget  him! 
Promise  that  he'll  be  nothing  to  you  in  the 
future!  and  I'll  forgive  all  the  rest.  Come 
to  me!  I  want  you.  I  won't  ask  you  a 
question,  not  a  question.  Marry  me  to- 
morrow and  I'll  kill  the  first  man  —  or 
woman  —  who  breathes  a  word  against  you. 
Lynn!" 

She  held  her  breath  and  looked  at  him  as 
though  fascinated. 


WHEN    LOVE   IS   DONE        331 

"  Lynn !    Promise !  " 

She  spoke,  slowly  and  with  difficulty. 

"  Until  he  dies,  Gerald  —  my  life  is  his." 

"Then" 

Amherst's  face  flushed,  a  dark,  purplish 
flush,  ugly  to  see. 

"  You  prefer  him  then  to  reputation,  hon- 
our, common  sense  and  decency."  His 
breath  came  heavily.  "  You  prefer  him  — 
tome!" 

As  slowly  and  deliberately  as  before  she 
answered  him. 

"  I  love  you  —  as  a  woman  loves  the  man 
she  means  to  marry.  I  love  L —  Ricossia  — 
as  I  love  no  other  being  on  God's  earth  — 
as  I  do  not  believe  any  other  man  was  ever 
loved  from  the  beginning  of  time.  You  say 
rightly.  I  prefer  him  —  and  the  oath  at 
which  you  sneer  —  to  reputation  —  honour 
—  common  sense  —  decency  —  and  you ! 
Good-bye,  Gerald;  try  to  forget  me." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MRS.  LANGH AM  -  GREENE  PAYS  HER  DEBT;  AND 
MRS.  WAITE,  HERS 

"The  long-necked  geese  of  the  world  that  are  ever  hissing 

dispraise 
Because  their  natures  are  little." 

—  Tennyson. 

ESTELLE  HADWELL  was  sitting  by 
a  blazing  fire  in  her  husband's  Hbrary 
when   she   heard   voices    in   the   hall 
below,  followed  by  the  banging  of  a  door. 
Then  Mr.  Hadwell  called  loudly: 
"  Estelle!   are  you  there?  " 
"  Yes,  dear,"  replied  his  wife,  somewhat 
surprised.     "  Have  you  visitors?  " 

"  Yes.  Mrs.  Langham-Greene  and  Mrs. 
Tollman  are  here.  Can  you  come  down?" 
"Yes,  indeed!"  replied  Mrs.  Hadwell 
with  eflfusion.  She  rose  slowly  from  her 
chair  by  the  fire,  grimacing  disgustedly  as 
she  did  so.  The  library  was  so  nice  and 
Mrs.  Greene  so  horrid  and  Mrs.  Tollman 
such  a  bore. 

332 


PAYING   DEBTS  333 

She  hurried  down  and  advanced  with  ex- 
tended hands  and  a  dehghted  smile.  She 
had  got  as  far  as  "  A  most  dehghtful  sur- 
prise—  an  unexpected  pleasure!  "  when  she 
caught  sight  of  her  husband's  face. 

"  Henry! "  she  exclaimed  in  genuine  con- 
sternation.    "What  in  the  world  is  it?" 

Her  husband  was  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  fireplace  and  a  portentous  frown  on 
his  brow,  looking,  as  Mrs.  Hadwell  re- 
flected to  herself,  for  all  the  world  like  the 
British  Matron  in  trousers. 

"  Henry,  what  is  it?  "  she  asked,  again. 

"  These  ladies,"  returned  Mr.  Hadwell 
with  a  majestic  wave  of  his  hand,  "  can  tell 
you  better  than  I." 

Estelle  glanced  from  one  to  the  other, 
wonderingly.  Mrs.  Tollman,  a  stout,  pleas- 
ant-faced woman,  wore  a  somewhat  dis- 
tressed expression  and  sat  stiflly  upright. 
Mrs.  Langham-Greene,  delicately  lovely  in 
dark  blue  velvet  and  ermine,  leaned  grace- 
fully back  in  an  easy  chair,  her  fine  features 
composed  to  an  expression  of  decorous  sor- 
row. Neither  lady  made  any  immediate 
effort  to  enlighten  her  hostess  until  Mrs. 
Greene  swept  a  meaning  glance  at  her  com- 


334  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

panion  from  beneath  her  long,  light  lashes. 
Then  Mrs.  Tollman  spoke. 

"  It's  such  a  delicate  matter,  Mrs.  Had- 
well,"  she  said  in  a  flurried  way.  "  I  dis- 
liked coming  to  you  about  it,  very  much; 
but  Mr.  Hadwell  insisted,  saying  that  only 
an  eye-witness  could  convince  you." 

"Of  what?" 

*'  This  is  so  hard  on  us,  both,"  Mrs. 
Langham-Greene  murmured,  soothingly. 
"  And  it  was  so  careless  of  me  to  mentiqn 
the  poor  thing;  for  then  Mr.  Hadwell  sim- 
ply dragged  the  whole  story  out  of  me.  I 
am  most  distressed,  I  am  indeed !  " 

"  But  at  what,  dear  Mrs.  Greene?  "  cooed 
her  hostess. 

"  Oh,  at  the  whole  affair  —  the  poor  girl 
so  well  connected  and  all!  and  Ricossia  so 
common  and  dreadful." 

"  Oh,  some  new  scandal  about  young  Ri- 
cossia," exclaimed  Mrs.  Hadwell  with  sud- 
den enlightenment  and  a  corresponding 
sinking  of  the  heart. 

"But  he  is  not  common;  no  one  could 
call  him  that.  Dreadful,  certainly;  but 
rather  fascinating  in  his  way,  don't  you 
think?" 


PAYING   DEBTS  335 

"  Apparently  others  have  found  him  so," 
drawled  the  older  lady,  meaningly. 

"What  others?" 

Mrs.  Langham-Greene  looked  deliber- 
ately at  Mrs.  Hadwell  and  spoke,  regret- 
fully. 

"  I  am  afraid,  dear  Mrs.  Hadwell,  that 
your  friend,  Miss  Thayer  " 

"  How  dare  you  say  so?  " 

"  Estelle,"  said  her  husband,  reprovingly, 
"  is  it  likely  that  these  ladies  would  speak 
without  proper  authority?" 

"  Very  likely  indeed,"  thought  their  host- 
ess, but  her  heart  was  sick  within  her. 
Lynn's  interest  in  Ricossia;  her  lack  of 
interest  in  other  men;  her  sorrow,  her  pre- 
occupation, her  confession  of  having  out- 
raged propriety;  all  these  ranged  as  wit- 
nesses against  her  in  her  friend's  heart. 

"  I  knew  —  I  told  Mr.  Hadwell  that  you 
would  take  it  in  just  this  way,"  murmured 
the  widow,  sympathetically.  "  So  he  in- 
sisted that  we  bring  an  eye-witness  to  con- 
vince you.  Of  course  the  thing  has  been 
going  on  for  an  indefinite  space  of  time; 
but,  just  lately,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tollman, 
when  returning  home  late  one  night,  saw 


336         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

Miss  Thayer  leaving  the  Chatham.  They 
followed  her.  She  took  a  sleigh  to  Pine 
Avenue,  dismissed  it  there  and  walked 
home.    Isn't  it  so,  Mrs.  Tollman?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Tollman,  fluttering. 
"  It  is  undeniably  true.  But  I  don't  know 
how  it  ever  got  out,  for  I  only  told  my  most 
intimate  friends  about  it." 

"  That  was  cheaper  than  having  it 
printed  in  the  *  Daily  News  '  and  certainly 
quite  as  effective." 

Mrs.  Hadwell  had  lost  her  usual  calm  and 
diplomacy. 

"  Really,"  she  continued  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  candour,  "  really  how  I  do  hate 
women!  They're  every  bit  as  nasty  as  men, 
and  nothing  like  so  nice  into  the  bargain. 
I  wish  I  need  never  see  a  woman  again  — 
except  Lynn." 

This  coming  from  the  politic  and  tactful 
Mrs.  Hadwell  had  the  effect  of  a  thunder- 
clap. Before  her  listeners  had  recovered 
the  housemaid  announced  Mrs.  Waite  and 
that  lady  entered. 

Since  inheriting  her  legacy,  Mrs.  Had- 
well's  former  housekeeper  had  hired  a  small 
furnished  house  and  was  living  there  alone. 


PAYING    DEBTS  337 

General  Shaftan's  house,  her  property,  was 
advertised  for  sale;  a  proceeding  which  had 
roused  some  interest  in  Montreal  society. 

"  How  funny  of  her  not  to  live  there 
until  it  sells  or  rents!  Can  it  be  that  that 
sourfaced  woman  is  afraid  of  ghosts?" 
some  had  asked. 

She  stood  now  in  the  doorway,  looking 
from  one  to  the  other  with  her  peculiarly 
cold  and  expressionless  manner.  "  Excuse 
me,"  she  said  without  preliminary,  "  but  as 
I  was  walking  through  the  hall  just  now  I 
heard  what  you  were  saying;  I  could  not 
help  hearing.  Is  it  true  that  Miss  Thayer 
is  in  trouble?  " 

"Are  you  interested  in  Miss  Thayer?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Langham-Greene  with  courtly 
insolence. 

"  Yes." 

The  two  women  faced  one  another  in 
silence;  the  one  beautiful,  patrician,  ele- 
gant; the  other,  plain,  sad-faced,  and,  ap- 
parently, old.  A  whole  world  lay  between 
them;  nor  was  the  chasm  bridged  by  the 
fact  that  both  had  loved  the  same  man. 
Mrs.  Hadwell,  with  her  usual  quick  intui- 
tion, could  feel  the  air  charged  with  import 


33S         THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

and  longed  to  know  what  lay  beneath  these 
different  exteriors.  Instead  she  turned  to 
Mrs.  Langham-Greene  with  a  question. 

"  May  I  ask  what  your  object  was  in  lay- 
ing these  slanders  about  Miss  Thayer  be- 
fore me?  "  she  said. 

"  I  wished,"  said  the  other  slowly,  "  to 
see  what  could  be  done  to  help  the  wretched 
girl.  Of  course  she  cannot  stay  here;  and 
I  understand  that  there  is  a  great  dearth 
of  teachers  in  the  North-West ;  they  are 
not  particular  there  as  to  character  and  "  — 

"You  cat!"  screamed  little  Mrs.  Had- 
well,  losing  all  control  of  herself.  "  How 
dare  you  come  to  my  house  and  compel  me 
to  be  rude  to  your  very  face?  How  dare  you 
speak  so  of  my  best  friend?  Who  wants  to 
hear  your  opinion  of  her?  why,  it's  an  im- 
pertinence on  your  part  to  have  an  opinion 
about  a  girl  like  Lynn.  Let  me  tell  you 
that  Miss  Thayer  need  not  go  to  the  North- 
West  for  a  refuge;  she  will  always  find  a 
welcome  in  my  home  whenever  she  needs 
one    — 

"  Not  in  mine!  " 

Mrs.  Hadwell  started  and  looked  at  her 
husband  with  amazement. 


PAYING    DEBTS  339 

"  You  wish  me  to  drop  Lynn?  My  dear 
Henry,  if  you  are  thinking  of  setting  up  in 
the  ostracizing  business  I  can  supply  you 
with  a  long  list  of  far  more  deserving 
cases." 

"  I  don't  say  that  the  girl  is  actually  bad, 
but  she  has  been  proved  to  be  utterly  de- 
void of  sense  or  decency.  She  shall  never 
set  foot  in  my  house  again." 

"  In  that  case,"  Mrs.  Hadwell's  voice  was 
calm  —  "I  leave  your  house  to-night  and 
take  my  children  with  me." 

"What?" 

"  They  are  all  under  seven  and  until 
that  age  the  mother  has  full  control.  I 
shall  take  them  to  my  grandmother  in  La- 
chine;  there,  at  least,  I  can  receive  my 
friends  —  my  one  friend,  I  should  say !  I 
haven't  another." 

Mr.  Hadwell  stamped  out  of  the  room  in 
a  fury.  Mrs.  Tollman  and  Mrs.  Greene  fol- 
lowed him  quietly,  the  former  almost  in 
tears,  the  latter  composed  and  cheerful. 
When  the  door  closed  on  them  Mrs.  Had- 
well sat  down  and  burst  into  tears. 

"Oh,  Lynn,  Lynn,  how  could  you?"  she 
sobbed. 


340  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Mrs.  Hadwell,  can  you  give  me  this  Mr. 
Ricossia's  address?" 

Mrs.  Waite's  cold,  thin  voice  sounded  un- 
pleasantly at  Estelle's  elbow. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it's  the  Chatham,  either 
10  or  12  St.  Eustache  St.,"  answered  the 
younger  woman,  staring  through  wet  eyes 
in  sheer  amazement.  "  Are  you  there,  still, 
Mrs.  Waite?    I  thought  you  had  gone." 

"  Don't  —  don't  mind  so  much,"  said  the 
"  Gorgon-faced  automaton  "  with  difficulty. 
"  Perhaps  something  can  be  done." 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing,  I  am  afraid,  ex- 
cept to  stand  by  her." 

"You  believe  this  story?" 

"  No! "  lied  Mrs.  Hadwell,  firmly. 

"  Neither  do  I.  I  am  sure  there  is  some 
explanation  if  one  could  only  find  out  what 
it  is.  And  I  have  plenty  of  money,  now; 
money  can  do  a  great  deal  sometimes  in 
cases  of  this  kind,  and  there  is  nothing  I 
would  sooner  spend  it  on  " 

"  You  —  you  ?  But,  Mrs.  Waite  —  if  you 
don*t  mind  my  asking  —  why  should  you 
—  what  is  Lynn  to  you?" 

Mrs.  Waite  moistened  her  dry  lips  and 
spoke,  faintly. 


PAYING   DEBTS  341 

"  I  had  a  child  once.  He  died.  .  .  .  She 
was  his  teacher  and  —  and  she  was  good  to 
him.  But  don't  tell  her;  she  might  try  to 
talk  to  me  about  him  and  —  and  I  couldn't 
stand  that  " 

Mrs.  Waite  stopped;  her  plain  face  con- 
torted ludicrously.  The  next  moment  the 
cold  Mrs.  Hadwell  and  the  woman  beside 
whose  frigid  nature  her  own  showed  in  the 
light  of  a  volcano  were  weeping  bitterly  in 
one  another's  arms. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

THE   SHADOWS    FALL 

"All  the  dreaming  is  broken  through. 
Both  what  is  done  and  undone  I  rue, 
Nothing  is  tender,  nothing  true, 
In  heaven  or  earth  save  God  and  you." 

—  Arthur  Sullivan. 

"But  still  the  faces  gaped  and  cried, 

'  Give  us  the  dream  for  which  we  died ! ' " 

—  Charles  G.  D.  Roberts. 

MRS.  HADWELL,  having  hypno- 
tized Mr.  Hadwell  into  apologiz- 
ing profusely  for  his  conduct, 
promised  to  forgive  him  if  he  would  go 
away  for  a  week. 

"  You  have  been  talking  for  years  of  pay- 
ing a  visit  to  your  sister  in  Toronto,"  she 
said.  "  Suppose  you  go  now,  Henry.  She 
will  be  delighted  to  see  you,  and  I  —  after 
a  week  of  absence  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  see 
you,  again,  that  I  shall  not  even  think  of 

this.    Otherwise  " 

He  went.    When  Estelle  had  seen  him 
342 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  343 

safely  in  the  train  she  drew  a  long  breath 
of  relief  and  telephoned  to  Miss  Thayer. 
Until  then  she  had  not  dared  to  risk  an 
encounter  between  her  friend  and  her  hus- 
band, knowing  that  the  former  was  a  keen 
observer  and  the  latter,  a  poor  actor. 

"  Come  to  me,  to-morrow,  as  soon  as 
school  is  out,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  be 
in  all  afternoon.    Promise!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  shall  come,  Del,"  assented 
the  other,  quietly.  Mrs.  Hadwell,  listening 
sorrowfully,  thought  she  could  detect  a 
note  of  unaccustomed  grief  in  Lynn's  voice. 
She  endeavoured  to  forget  it,  however,  and, 
giving  orders  to  admit  no  visitors  that  eve- 
ning, sat  in  front  of  the  library  fire,  cudgel- 
ling her  brains  for  some  method  of  rehabili- 
tating her  friend  in  public  favour.  Al- 
though a  woman  of  great  resource  and  au- 
dacity none  occurred  to  her;  the  case  was 
too  hopeless. 

"  Let  me  see,"  she  said,  judicially,  "  what 
are  the  facts  —  the  known  facts?  First: 
Lynn,  who  is  a  great  favourite  with  men 
but  who  shows  partiality  to  none,  develops 
an  enthusiastic  fancy  for  an  unknown  ge- 
nius who  arrives  in  Montreal  two  years  ago. 


344  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

She  works  night  and  day  to  induce  her 
friends  to  take  him  up;  she  takes  long 
walks  and  drives  in  his  society;  and  is  fre- 
quently seen  holding  absorbed  conversa- 
tions with  him  in  out-of-the-way  places. 
She  puffs  his  writings  untiringly;  she  per- 
sists in  ignoring  his  open  faults;  she  makes 
excuses  for  his  bad  habits.  True,  he  is  only 
a  child  in  years.  Then  he  turns  out  to  be 
utterly  depraved;  everyone  drops  him;  she 
grows  white  and  thin,  refuses  to  discuss 
him  even  with  me  and  is  seen  talking  with 
him  after  he  has  been  practically  ostracised 
by  all  reputable  people.  This  is  a  year  ago. 
She,  who  has  hitherto  loved  society  and 
revelled  in  every  sort  of  outdoor  exercise, 
suddenly  takes  to  refusing  all  invitations 
and  losing  interest  in  all  sports.  To-day 
half  a  dozen  unimpeachable  witnesses  — 
and  dear  knows  how  many  others  —  are 
ready  to  swear  that  they  have  seen  her  leave 
his  extremely  dubious  place  of  residence, 
late  at  night.  Oh,  Lynn,  Lynn,  my  dear 
stupid  child,  how  could  you?  What  can  I 
do  for  you?  If  they  were  even  people  who 
could  be  bought  —  who  could  be  bribed  to 
swear  that  they  had  lied !  —  oh,  I  give  it 


THE   SHADOWS    FALL         345 

up !  I  may  as  well  telephone  to  Mrs.  Waite 
and  see  if  she  has  any  ideas." 

"  Is  that  you,  Mrs.  Waite?  Yes,  it  is  I, 
Mrs.  Hadwell.  No,  I  have  not  seen  Miss 
Thayer  yet  but  she  is  coming  up  to-morrow 
afternoon.  I  don't  know;  I  am  most  un- 
happy about  it.  Yes,  to-morrow  afternoon. 
Oh,  why?" 

"  Because,"  answered  Mrs.  Waite,  quietly, 
"  I  think  I  have  discovered  something.  Do 
not,  on  any  account,  let  Miss  Thayer  know, 
or  you  may  spoil  everything.  No,  I  can  tell 
you  nothing.  I  have  your  permission  to 
bring  him?   then  I  shall  say  good-night." 

"  Most  tantalising,"  muttered  Estelle  as 
she  hung  up  the  receiver.  "  Still,  as  every- 
thing is  as  bad  already  as  it  can  well  be, 
nothing  can  make  it  much  worse.  How 
truly  comforting!  Who  is  the  person  she 
wants  to  bring,  I  wonder!  and  how  can 
he  help  poor  Lynn?  A  plea  of  insanity  is 
the  only  solution  that  occurs  to  me.  But 
ril  stand  by  her  —  and,  in  the  meantime, 
I'll  drink  a  pint  of  porter  and  see  if  that 
will  make  me  sleep." 

It  did;  and  at  four  o'clock  the  next  day 
Mrs.  Hadwell  greeted  her  friend  with  an 


346  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

intensity  of  feeling  that  was  almost  sol- 
emn. 

"  You  poor  child !  "  she  said,  as  she  kissed 
her. 

Lynn  returned  the  kiss,  listlessly,  and  sat 
down.    She  looked  rather  tired. 

"  So  you  have  not  yet  deserted  me,  Del?  " 
she  said,  quietly,  as  she  loosened  her  wraps. 

"  Deserted  you !  Oh,  Lynn,  Lynn,  I 
wouldn't  desert  you  if  you  had  committed 
murder  and  sacrilege.  But,  my  child,  how 
could  you  be  so  foolish?  Why  weren't  you 
content  with  doing  a  wrong  thing  without 
going  further  and  doing  it  in  such  a  way 
that  it  had  to  come  out?  I  won't  reproach 
you  for  the  thing,  itself;  I  am  too  sick, 
too  sorry ;  but  why,  oh  why,  had  you  " 

"Wait!'* 

Lynn  put  her  hand  to  her  forehead  as 
though  bewildered. 

"  Just  a  minute,  Del.  I  don't  quite  under- 
stand.   What  is  it  that  you  think?  " 

"  Don't  fence  with  me,  dear,  any  longer. 
That  green-eyed  harpy  of  a  Langham- 
Greene  has  got  hold  of  the  whole  affair. 
You  have  been  seen  leaving  the  Chatham 
late  at  night;   you  have  been  seen  dismiss- 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  347 

ing  a  sleigh  on  Pine  Avenue  and  walking 
home." 

"  Yes." 

"  You  know !  But,  Lynn,  how  can  you 
take  it  so  coolly?  Don't  you  realise  what 
a  terrible  thing  it  is?  " 

"  In  what  way?  " 

"  Why,  my  dear,  dear  girl,  your  reputa- 
tion is  gone  if  we  can't  refute  these  state- 
ments;  you  must  know  that." 

"  Yes,  I  know." 

"You  — know!" 

"  Yes.  The  fact  is,  Del,  that  I  have  had 
so  many  real  troubles  lately  that  the  loss 
of  that  intangible  thing,  reputation,  affects 
me  little.    I  can  get  along  without  it." 

"  Lynn,  you  don't  know  what  you  are 
saying.  A  woman's  reputation  is  like  her 
clothing;  it's  a  great  bother,  it's  ruinously 
expensive  and  it's  sometimes  distinctly  un- 
comfortable. The  sad  fact  remains,  how- 
ever, that  she  must  either  have  it  or  emi- 
grate to  the  Sandwich  Islands." 

"  My  reputation,  as  you  call  it,  Del,  is 
gone  because  two  or  three  people  say  that 
they  have  seen  me  doing  an  unusual  thing. 
It  is  true;  I  did  it.    Yet,  if  I  had  immersed 


348  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

myself  in  a  nunnery  and  never  stirred  out- 
side unless  accompanied  by  an  army  of  chap- 
erons and  escorts,  my  reputation  might  be 
gone,  just  as  effectually.  The  first  man 
who  took  a  dislike  to  me  could  leave  me 
without  a  shred  of  character  provided  he 
went  to  a  little  trouble  and  didn't  mind  a 
few  lies  —  what  man  does?  What  is  more, 
I  might  never  have  heard  of  the  matter  till 
years  after;  it  merely  happens  that  I  am 
aware  of  this.  There  may  be  fifty  scandals 
about  me  in  other  circles  for  anything  I 
know  to  the  contrary.  No,  Del;  I  have 
several  troubles,  but  my  lost  reputation  is 
not  one  of  them." 

"  My  dear  Lynn,  are  you  absolutely  indif- 
ferent to  the  opinions  of  others?  You  must 
be  mad." 

"  Possibly.  I  don't  say  that  I  am  not 
oorry  to  think  that  many  nice  women  must 
have  a  wrong:  idea  of  me:  but  as  for  men 
—  pah!  What  does  it  matter  what  they 
think?  It  is  not  so  very  long  ago  since  a 
certain  engagement  was  broken  off  in  this 
very  city;  the  *  gentleman  '  took  his  former 
fiancee's  letters  to  the  club  and  read  them 
there  aloud  amid  shouts  of  laughter.    There 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  349 

are  men  for  you!  the  men  that  you  and  I 
know!  Who  would  want  the  good-will  of 
a  pack  of  hounds  like  that?  No;  let  them 
have  my  reputation  to  tear  to  pieces  if  it 
amuses  them;  I  have  other  things  to  think 
of/' 

"  But  Lynn,  what  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  Stay  here  and  face  the  music." 

''Stay  here?" 

"  Certainly.  What  do  you  take  me 
for?" 

"  A  madwoman.  You  mean  to  stay  in  a 
place  where  everyone  knows  —  where  the 
man  is  still  living  —  where  "  — 

"Why  not?  I've  done  nothing  to  be 
ashamed  of,  even  granting  that  I  have  acted 
foolishly.     I'm  not  going  to  skulk  off!" 

"Nothing  to  be  ashamed  of!  Lynn! 
Why  do  you  persist  in  maintaining  this 
attitude?  You  compel  me  to  speak  plainly. 
You  have  done  what  is  unforgivable  —  you 
have  done  "  — 

"Wait  a  minute,  Del!     You  mean?"  — 

"  I  mean  —  oh,  Lynn,  Lynn,  don't  you 
see  that  if  you  had  only  kept  this  dreadful 
thing  secret;  if  you  only  hadn't  allowed 
people  to  know,  positively,  that  you  had 


350  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

done  the  one  thing  that  is  never  pardoned 
in  a  woman  —  if  you  had  only  "  — 

''Ah!" 

Lynn  rose,  slowly. 

"  I  didn't  know,  Del  —  I  knew  what  men 
were  like  —  I  didn't  know  —  what  you  have 
taught  me!    Good-bye." 

"  Lynn.    Wait!    Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  Home  —  to  tell  my  uncle  and  aunt  that 
I  have  been  seen  leaving  the  Chatham  at 
night.  If  they  won't  have  me  in  their 
house  —  I'll  go,  elsewhere.  I  have  proved 
the  w^orth  of  the  two  people,  man  and 
woman,  who  professed  to  love  me  best  on 
earth;  now  I  want  to  rid  myself  of  all  the 
rest.     Good-bye." 

"  Good  heavens !  You  don't  mean  to  say 
that  you  are  trying  to  deny?"  — 

"  I  am  denying  and  trying  to  deny  noth- 
ing. I  refuse  to  discuss  the  subject.  I 
suppose  I  must  make  up  my  mind  to  ex- 
pect insults  from  strangers,  but  I  am  not 
compelled  to  receive  them  from  my  friends 
—  or  from  those  who  were  once  my  friends. 
I  have  no  friends,  now;  I  never  had  father 
or  mother  or  —  or  —  and  now  I  have  neither 
friend  nor   lover.     Knowing  what   I   now 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL         351 

know  of  love  and  friendship  —  I  am 
glad!" 

"  Oh,  Lynn,  Lynn!  This  to  me!  when  I 
would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  help  you !  " 
cried  Mrs.  Hadwell,  miserably.  "  How  can 
you  doubt  my  friendship?  I  tell  you  that 
if,  to-morrow,  everyone  threw  you  over  my 
house  would  still  be  open  to  you." 

"  Your  house !  Do  you  think  I  would 
ever  enter  it  again?  Fool!  We've  known 
each  other  from  childhood  up,  and  yet,  to- 
day, you  think  you  can  insult  me  and  be 
forgiven.  The  sight  of  you  makes  me  feel 
sick.    Don't  stop  me,  don't  speak  to  me  "  — 

Mrs.  Hadwell  had  risen  to  intercept  her. 
Lynn  hastened  past  her  to  the  door.  There 
stood  Gerald  Amherst,  white  as  death. 

For  a  long  moment  the  three  stood  in 
silence.  Lynn  was  the  first  to  break  it 
and  her  voice  was  mocking. 

"  You  interrupted  an  affecting  farewell, 
Mr.  Amherst.  I  was  saying  good-bye  to  my 
bosom  friend,  just  as,  not  long  ago,  I  said 
good-bye  to  my  devoted  lover.  Having 
done  what  politeness  demands  I  shall  now 
take  my  departure." 

"  No ! "   exclaimed    Estelle,  rushing   for- 


352  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

ward.  "  Don't  let  her,  Mr.  Amherst.  She 
doesn't  know  what  she's  saying  or  doing 
and  I  must  keep  her  till  she  understands. 
Lynn,  wait!     Let  me  explain." 

Lynn,  with  a  gesture  that  was  almost 
majestic,  motioned  Amherst  from  the  door- 
way where  he  still  stood.  He  hesitated, 
trembling  and  uncertain;  and  while  he 
hesitated,  steps  sounded  in  the  hall  behind 
and  Mrs.  Waite  spoke. 

"Mr.  Amherst,  don't  go  away!  nor  you, 
either.  Miss  Thayer.  I  wish  very  much  to 
see  you,  both.  I  am  sorry  to  be  late, 
but "  — 

Amherst  moved  aside,  mechanically,  and 
Amy  Waite  entered,  followed  by  Ricossia. 
The  two  women  stood  where  they  were, 
unable  to  speak  or  move;  and  Ricossia 
spoke,  pleasantly. 

"  Mrs.  Waite  has  brought  me  here  in 
order  that  I  may  explain  "  — 

"Liol!" 

"  Don't  be  absurd,  Lynn !  The  fact  is, 
good  people,"  said  the  boy  carelessly,  "  that 
Lynn's  mother  was  also  mine;  and  Lynn, 
as  a  child,  contracted  some  crazy  affection 
for  me  which  seems  to  have  got  her  into 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL  353 

general  trouble.  In  the  first  place,  she 
swore  an  insane  oath  to  my  mother  —  you 
see  the  latter  was  dying  and  sent  for  her 
secretly  —  it's  hard  to  explain!  but  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Thayer,  knowing  what  a  bad  lot 
my  father  was  and  judging  rightly  that  I 
would  be  likely  to  take  after  him  —  which 
I  certainly  did!  —  made  it  part  of  the  bar- 
gain when  they  adopted  Lynn  that  she  was 
to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  lot  of  us. 
Lynn,  however,  had  always  remembered 
me,  it  seems,  and  so,  when  my  mother  sent 
for  her  and  explained  that  my  father  would 
see  me  starve  to  death  before  he  would 
spend  a  penny  on  me,  Lynn  undertook  to 
provide  for  my  upbringing  out  of  her  earn- 
ings as  a  teacher.  That  was  all  very  well; 
but  what  does  my  mother  do  but  get  ex- 
cited and  make  her  swear  that  she  will 
never  tell  anyone  that  I  am  her  brother,  in 
case  it  may  get  to  the  ears  of  the  Thayers 
and  make  them  throw  her  over.  Lynn 
tries  to  get  out  of  it  but  finally  swears  and 
—  and  then  —  I'm  not  over  strong,  and  I 
fancy  I'll  sit  down  if  you'll  allow  me.  For 
God's  sake,  Lynn,  don't  look  like  that! 
what  on  earth's  the  matter  with  you?" 


354  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

No  one  spoke  and  Ricossia  leaned  back 
wearily  in  the  chair  which  he  had  taken, 
his  beautiful  face  haggard,  his  great  eyes 
hollow  and  emptied  of  expression.  Lynn 
stood  like  a  statue;  since  her  first  exclama- 
tion she  had  remained  silent  but  her  face 
had  changed.  Something  resembling  hope 
had  crept  into  her  eyes  and  mingled  with 
the  fierce  love  that  illumined  them  when- 
ever they  rested  on  her  brother.  As  he  lay 
back,  breathing  faintly,  she  moved  toward 
him  and  stood,  looking  down. 

"  God  is  not  all  cruel,"  she  said,  as  though 
to  herself.  "  He  has  taken  all  the  rest  — 
but  He  has  given  me  this,  at  least,  before 
you  die  —  the  knowledge  that  you  do  care 
a  little,  Liol.  Else,  why  should  you  have 
done  this?  " 

Her  tired  face  softened  with  a  beautiful 
peace. 

"  I  don't  know  what  on  earth  you  are 
muttering  to  yourself  about,"  said  the  con- 
sumptive, shrugging  his  shoulders,  whimsi- 
cally, "  but,  if  you  imagine,  my  dear  girl, 
that  I  dragged  myself  up  this  infernal  hill 
to  save  you  from  the  consequences  of  your 
own  folly,  you're  mistaken.    Why  shouldn't 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL         355 

you  break  the  fool  oath?  However,  you'll 
be  glad  to  hear  that  you'll  be  able  to  keep 
your  own  earnings  in  the  future.  I've  made 
a  haul  that " 

"  Mr.  Ricossia,"  broke  in  the  metallic 
voice  of  Mrs.  Waite,  "  refused  at  first  to 
explain  the  object  of  Miss  Thayer's  visits. 
I  therefore  "  — 

"  She  therefore  paid  me  well  to  do  it  — 
as  I  surmised  she  would,"  said  Ricossia, 
composedly.  "  What  are  you  looking  like 
that  for,  Lynn?  Thank  goodness,  I'm  de- 
pendent on  your  vagaries  no  longer;  the 
doctor  tells  me  that,  if  I  reach  California 
alive,  I  may  live  a  month  or  so  longer  — 
he  doesn't  promise  that  I  will  reach  it,  — 
but  if  I  do !  "  —  He  sprang  to  his  feet, 
irradiated  and  glorious  —  "  if  I  do  —  by 
God,  I'll  see  Life  before  I  die!" 

"  You  infernal  young  scoundrel !  "  broke 
in    Amherst,    unable    to    contain    himself 

longer,    "  you    d d    ungrateful    young 

blackguard!  is  this  your  return  to  your 
sister  for  all  she  has  done  and  suffered? 
Have  you  no  shame?  " 

"  Not  a  particle !  "  answered  the  other, 
laughing.     "  No  shame  and  no  love  in  my 


356  THE   ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

composition!  I  never  cared  for  any  living 
thing  but  myself  —  not  even  my  mother. 
As  for  Lynn,  I'm  going  to  do  her  one  kind- 
ness before  I  die;  and  that  is  to  tell  her 
the  truth.  Lynn,  you  have  never  been  any- 
thing to  me  at  any  time  but  a  necessary 
evil;  I  had  to  have  money  to  live,  and  from 
you,  only,  was  I  able  to  obtain  it ;  therefore 
I  tried  to  feign  a  little  affection  for  you 
which  I  never  felt  in  the  most  remote  de- 
gree. Tve  allowed  you  to  sacrifice  time, 
money,  and  finally  reputation  to  me;  and 
now  that  I'm  going  off  alone  to  die  —  riot- 
ously and  wickedly  and  happily  as  I've 
always  wanted  to  —  I  leave  you  this  piece 
of  advice.  Marry  Amherst  and  forget  all 
about  me.  I'll  forget  you  as  soon  as  I'm 
out  of  your  sight,  which  will  be  very  soon, 
I  promise  you." 

Something  approaching  horror  showed  in 
the  faces  of  his  hearers;  they  looked  un- 
certainly at  one  another,  doubtful  whether 
to  still  the  cruel  voice  or  no.  Lynn,  only, 
remained  motionless;  her  face  was  grey 
and  her  hands  twitched  a  little.  Gerald, 
who  stood  nearest,  alone  heard  her  whisper: 

"  Not  this !    Oh,  God,  not  this !  " 


THE    SHADOWS    FALL         357 

"  Lynn,"  he  burst  forth,  "  what  can  I 
say?  Come  with  me,  forgive  me;  I'll  spend 
my  life  in  making  amends.  Don't  mind 
him;  he  doesn't  know  what  he's  saying; 
he's  sick,  crazy,  mad!  they  all  get  like  that 
when  they  take  drugs.    Lynn !  " 

She  turned  very  slowly  and  looked  at 
him. 

"You  —  want  me?"  she  asked,  dully. 
"Think!  —  the  best  of  me  is  dead;  you've 
helped  to  kill  it,  all  of  you.  I'm  an  old 
woman  now;  I'll  never  be  young,  again, 
never  be  young  or  light-hearted  or  gay 
again,  while  this  life  lasts.  Are  you  sure 
you  want  me?" 

"Come!" 

Lynn  looked  at  him  .  .  .  then  slowly, 
very  slowly,  put  her  hand  in  his. 

"  The  little  boy  I  loved  is  dead,  too,"  she 
said,  rather  lifelessly.  "  That  —  that  is  a 
ghoul  that  has  taken  his  beautiful  form. 
Oh,  my  baby,  my  baby !  my  little  dark-eyed 
angel  that  I  loved  so!  to  think  that  you 
should  die  and  I  not  know  it.  Or  perhaps 
you  never  lived,  really.  .  .  .  Let  us  go, 
Gerald!  let  us  go  away  from  it,  all!  I'm 
tired.    You  —  you'll  not  fail  me?" 


358  THE    ARCH  -  SATIRIST 

"  Before  God,  I  will  not." 

They  moved  toward  the  door.  On  its 
threshold  Lynn  paused  and  turned.  The 
red  evening  sunlight  was  streaming  through 
the  window  and  its  scarlet  flame  lay 
strangely  on  the  deathless  beauty  of  her 
brother's  face.  She  surveyed  it  in  silence 
.  .  .  the  face  that  had  held  all  heaven  and 
all  hell  for  her  since  the  moment  when  she, 
a  lonely,  loveless  child,  had  seen  and  wor- 
shipped it  first. 

"  Good-bye,  Liol !  "  she  said  at  last,  very 
softly.  "  You've  been  my  idol  all  my  life, 
and  I'm  never  going  to  see  you  again  in 
time  or  in  eternity,  and  I  thank  God  for 
it.  .  .  .  Good-bye." 

Gerald  drew  her  gently  away  and  the 
door  closed  behind  them. 


THE  END. 




The   Potter   and  the  Clay 

A  Romance  of  To-day 

By  MAUD  HOWARD  PETERSON.  Bound  In  blue  cloth, 
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romance  of  rare  strength  and  beauty.  The  scenes 
are  laid  in  America,  Scotland,  and  India ;  and  one 
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Margaret  E.  Sangster:  "From  the  opening 
chapter,  which  tugs  at  the  heart,  to  the  close, 
when  we  read  through  tears,  the  charm  of  the 
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Lothrop,  Lee  &  Shepard  Co.,  Boston 


Che  Cittk  Green  Door 

By    MART    E.    STONE    BASSETT 

Eight   illustrations   by  Louise   Clarke    and    twenty-five  decoratiTe 

half-title  pages  by  Etiel  Pearce  Clements 

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A  charming  romance  of  the  time  of 
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"Tender,  sweet,  passionate,  pure;  a  lily  fi-om  the  garden  of 
loves." — Baltimore  Herald. 

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BOSTON 


MISS     BILLY 

A      NEIGHBORHOOD       STORY 

By   EDITH    K.    STOKELY    and    MARIAN    K.    HURD 

Illustrated  by  CHARLES   COPELAND 

i2mo   Cloth    1.50 

•'VfISS  BILLY"  deserves  more  than  passing 
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her  new  neighbors  form  a  capital  story. 

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flowing kindness  of  heart  bubbling  over  in  infectious  gayety." 

—  Boston  Herald. 

'•The   book   is  sure   to   have   an  immense  number  of  readers." 

—  St.  Louis  Star. 

"The  plan  of  the  tale  is  original,  the  conversation  very  bright  and 
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—  Boston   Transcript. 

"It  is  a  human  interest  story  which  appeals  to  the  heart,  and  at 
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— Pittsburg  Chronicle    Telegraph. 

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The  Lions  of  the   Lord 


By   HARRY   LEON   WILSON 

Author  of  "  The  Spenders."  Six  illustrations  by  Rose  Cecil 
O'Neill,  bound  in  dark  green  cloth,  illustrated  cover,  i2mo. 
$''.$0,  postpaid. 

In  his  romance  of  the  old  West,  "  The  Lions  of  the  Lord," 
Mr.  Wilson,  whose  "  The  Spenders  "  is  one  of  the  successes 
of  the  present  year,  shows  an  advance  in  strength  and  grasp 
bdth  in  art  and  life.  It  is  a  thrilling  tale  of  the  Mormon  set- 
tlement of  Salt  Lake  City,  with  all  its  grotesque  comedy, 
grim  tragedy,  and  import  to  American  civilization.  The 
author's  feeling  for  the  Western  scenery  affords  him  an 
opportunity  for  many  graphic  pen  pictures,  and  he  is  equally 
strong  in  character  and  in  description.  For  the  first  time  in 
a  novel  is  the  tragi-comedy  of  the  Mormon  development 
adequately  set  forth.  Nothing  fresher  or  more  vital  has 
been  produced  by  a  native  novelist. 


The   Spenders 

By  HARRY  LEON  WILSON 
70th  Thousand 

Author  of  '•The  Lions  of  the  Lord."  Red  silk  cloth,  rough 
edges,  picture  cover.  Six  illustrations  by  Rose  Cecil 
O'Neill.     i2mo.     ^1.50,  postpaid. 

Mark  Twain  writes  to  the  author :  "  It  cost  me  my  day 
yesterday.  You  owe  me  $400.  But  never  mind,  I  forgive 
you  for  the  book's  sake." 

Louisville  Courier-Journal  says :  "  If  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  the  American  novel  of  a  new  method,  this  is  one.  Abso- 
lutely to  be  enjoyed  is  it  from  the  first  page  to  the  last." 

Harry  Thurston  Peck,  in  the  New  York  American,  says : 
"  The  very  best  two  books  written  by  Americans  during  the 
past  year  have  been  '  The  Spenders,'  by  Harry  Leon  Wilson, 
and  '  The  Pit,'  by  Frank  Norris." 

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